A Long Journey, Feathers and Beauty
by AnythingEver
Summary: It began with a strange encounter, and brought so many stranger things with it. I'm not sure where this journey will bring them, and it will most certainly be long, but in the end, they will find happiness. OC. Warning: will include non-witcheresque supernatural creatures. [Geralt of Rivia, OC], Jaskier
1. Chapter 1

Rated M for later chapters. Or so I hope.

**Warning n°1:** this story deals with a character that may appear as a Mary-Sue. I'm going to try not to go that way. I'm not very familiar with The Witcher's mythology, but I loved the TV show and the characters, and I wanted to indulge myself. So, this might flirt with concepts some of you readers might find utterly stupid. It might not be canon at all. For this, I offer my deepest apologies. However, I'm going to try my best to write something nice and beautiful, and I hope you'll enjoy.

**Warning n°2:** the hunchback woman in this story is NOT Yennefer, neither is inspired by her in no way, as you'll see later. I hope it will be ok with you anyway.

**Warning n°3: **in this reality, Yennefer and Geralt might be over each other. Good friends. Good memories. That's all.

**Warning 4: **English is not my mother tongue, but I'll try my best to avoid mistakes, as much as possible. Feel free to correct me, though.

And now, on with the show!

_It had been along day. Or a long week. Or even more than that. So that jug of ale would be much pleasing when it would go down their throats. That, and the nice, warm, comfy bed that would welcome their sore bodies that night. Well, one of said body could have arguably been described as less sore than the other, but it was quite likely that the less sore, more singing one, would argue that walking along a witcher days on – years on – was enough to make you as sore as fighting hoards of monsters._

_But that was not the discussion taking place between the two when they finally got to the inn. The village was rather big, they would be able to rest, eat and drink, maybe even bathe, and sleep to their hearts content, and more than a discussion, it was rather the horseman suffering the long monologue about aforementionned pleasures delivered to him by a tired, but no less chatty, bard, strolling light-heartedly by his side._

_Finally were they able to sit down and enjoy the coziness. If you could call cozy a room full of chattering people, half of them drunk, but at least it was dry, mudless, and even warm, considering the fire lit in the hearth, that created little moving shadows on everyone, and Jaskier had a great time observing them as they danced on his travel companion's face. Said companion looked, as much of the time, unmoved by anything around him. It was all the more fun to see the shadows animate the stolid face._

_This gave him an idea for a new song. The light dancing on the face of the witcher, stoic after defeating the monsters, a perfect allegory for the life restored by his exploits. He grabbed his lute, pinched a few of its strings, and started humming as a prelude._

_But just beside them a small glimpse of lavender caught his attention. And, rare fact, it also caught the witcher's._

_A fabric. The brush of a long robe. Only a moment, and it was on its way, led by the hostess in front of the fireplace. A rare colour to be seen. Or maybe not? But something about it, at this moment, was captivating._

_The silhouette was quite large, and seemed to move with difficulty. Some stools scraped the floor to make way, some grumbling was heard to protest this inconvenience. But finally, with the help of innkeeper, they managed to find the seat they were offered. A polite "thank you" made itself barely heard. The voice was feminine._

_Jaskier had turned around to follow the movement, and Geralt had kept his eyes on the lavender robe for a moment. From what they could see, they understood now the largeness of it. The back of the robe stood higher than the beginning of the hood. A crooked back. A hunchback. And the little of the face they could observe was hidden. By the hood, but also by another piece of lavender fabric, applied tightly against the eyes. Tied, most likely. A blind. The poor woman had been cursed with many misfortunes it seemed. Jaskier exhaled a sympathetic sigh, before turning back to his lute. To each their own miseries, and his was now to create the songs that would pay their next meals._

_Geralt didn't seem to care much. The situation didn't seem threatening, the surprise of the colour was now over. His ale was about to get the rest of his attention, when something strange happened. Jaskier's pinched strings seemed to get an answer from across the room, by the fireplace. The lavender hooded woman was preluding on a lute of her own._

_The tune started lightly, and it was quite pretty. The bard seemed annoyed at the competition, that might rob him of the admiration he was expecting to receive. He turned around grumpily to observe the outrage, maybe even protest, but he was stopped by the voice coming beautifully from the blind woman._

"Yondeiru mune no dokoka okude

Itsumo kokoro odoru yume wo mitai

Kanashimi wa kazoekirenai keredo

Sono mukô de kitto anata ni aeru*"

_This was a strange language, and the silence fell in the room, as the conversations died. The tune was merry, the voice was singing them with gaiety, and if nobody understood the meaning of those strange words, it seemed to convey warmth within. Geralt himself didn't seem to care much, as Jaskier now looked mesmerised, but the witcher had stopped drinking completely…_

_-_

*Those are the lyrics to _Itsumo Nando Demo _from _Spirited Away._ Yes this has nothing to do with the Witcher, but I really thought it was perfect for the feeling I was trying to install. Also,I used Japanese for the language of that "foreign, far away land", I thought it was nice, and why not. Please bear with me ^^'


	2. Chapter 2

"Kurikaesu ayamachi no sono tabi hito wa

Tada aoi sora no aosa wo shiru

Hateshinaku michi wa tsuzuite mieru keredo

Kono ryôte wa hikari wo idakeru"

_What was this strange language? Ande more important: why had he never heard it before? Where could it come from? It definitely didn't sound like Elder Speech, nor like the dialects of Skellige, not to say anything about the Lingua Franca. So what were this words, what did they mean, and where they in any way the sign of a danger to come, monster or otherwise. Geralt raised and eyebrow._

_A child, no older than eight, had immediately come to sit in front of the singing bard. A big smile on his face showed his appreciation of the performance. Three or four children soon joined him, cheeks as rosy as they must be in front of a big piece of cake. And truly, the voice was beautiful, and the song quite soothing. Kind of a sad thing that the woman couldn't see the effect of her singing. Her hand was travelling on the frets of her instruments, pinching the strings, creating the sweet melody that seem to enchant the children around her, and maybe some of the adults customers. The conversations had resumed, quite low, but most of the assembly listened to the melodic voice._

"Sayonara no toki no shizuka na mune

Zero ni naru karada ga mimi wo sumaseru

Ikiteiru fushigi shindeyuku fushigi

Hana mo kaze mo machi mo minna onaji"

_Jaskier huffed on his sit. The bard was quite unhappy. He caught the innkeeper when she was on her wy with an empty tray, having delivered its order to a thirsty table._

"Tell me sweet lady, am I so miserable to have competition tonight? Who is that?

\- My, I couldn't really tell! _answered the jolly woman_ My boy met the woman at the entrance of the forest, it seems. Brought her back her, said she had an instrument, that she could sing in the inn, might make the customers happy. I think he wanted to help her, since the poor thing is… Well you can see for yourself. But well, the customers semm happy, and my, yes indeed, she can sing!

\- Humph. Others can do that too."

_The slightest smile started to form itself on the witcher's lips, obviously amused at his companion's annoyance. Meanwhile, the hostess was quite chatty, and happy to comment on tonight's event._

"I'm happy to help someone in need. The poor thing seem a bit weary if you ask me. Must not have had a decent meal nor a good night sleep in a while. Immediately said she couldn't spend the night, since she had no money to pay for the room, but I told her she could pay with her music."

"Yondeiru mune no dokoka okude

Itsumo nando demo yume wo egakô

Kanashimi no kazu wo iitsukusu yori

Onaji kuchibiru de sotto utaô"

Tojiteyuku omoide no sono naka ni itsumo

Wasuretakunai sasayaki wo kiku

Konagona ni kudakareta kagami no ue ni mo

Atarashii keshiki ga utsusareru"

_Then, the strangest thing happened. As the delicate hand played the next note, a small ball of blue light emerged from the neck of the lute, and started to dance around the playing hand, leaving a blue trail of light behind it. From it came a second voice, completing the singing of the song in an eerie duet…_

"Hajimari no asa no shizuka na mado

Zero ni naru karada mitasarete yuke

Umi no kanata ni wa mô sagasanai

Kagayaku mono wa itsumo koko ni

Watashi no naka ni mitsukerareta kara"

_The children seated in front of the musician opened large eyes full of happy surprise. A second, red, ball of light, and a third green one, came to join their voices to the choir of the cheerful, warm tune._

_The assembly was taken aback. The innkeeper gasped in surprise. Jaskier jumped on his seat._

"Now that's unfair competition if I ever saw it!"

* * *

Thanks to the amazing Kate Convington, whose rendition of this song inspired me the beginning of this story. watch?v=qXXbTwL79R0


	3. Chapter 3

_Geralt frowned. The song now over, the children clapped and squealed as the little balls of light levitated quietly above the hand of the singer. The innkeeper's boy got up._

"How do you do that? Is it magic? Can I touch it?

\- Oh, you should rather not," _answered the musician._ "They wouldn't like it."

_As if on cue, as the little boy's finger streched out for the red ball, it flew away from his reach, and the three seemd to hurry back in the lute, disappearing as they reached it. The boy made a disappointed sound._

"I'm sorry" _said the blind woman, with a little laugh._ "They are quite shy."

_Geralt turned toward the innskeeper._

"Can you ask her to come and join us?"

_Jaskier whipped round to face his friend, indignation painted all over his face._

"And now you're against me too? As if fate had not been unkind enough to me, propelling this… This… Woman! Exactly in that inn, exactly at that time, stealing my own show? What have I ever done to you to deserve such treachery, pray tell me?"

_The witcher grunted in response. The bard started pouting._

_Meanwhile many voices raised to claim an encore, and the children were hopping to ask for the return of the shiny blobs, but the innkeeper came near the musician and, bending over, whispered a few words. The woman nodded in return and apologised to her young audience. Then she rised and took the hand of her guide to the table where an outraged bard and a stoic witcher were seated._

_Now that he could see her close, Geralt noticed the pallor of her complexion. Her nose was quite thin, the lips were quivering, as if tired by the singing she had just performed. The innkeeper had been right: she _was _weary. His face seem to soften in welcome of the newcomer. Even if she couldn't see it, a warm attitude could be heard in the voice. _

"Jaskier, move away, make room for our guest."

_She hesitated._

"I - I don't mean to be of nuisance…

\- My friend can move a bit."

_Jaskier had been about to protest, but Geralt had just called him his friend. His _friend!_ That was a day to remember, and the bard was happy enough to indeed move on the bench so that the musician could sit down. He even went so far as to guide her with his hand, though again she gave a start at the touch of the foreign hand, whose voice she still hadn't heard. Jaskier corrected the situation._

"Come sit here."

_Identifying the sound with the hand touching her, the embarrassed musician took place beside the man welcoming her, thanking him in the process._

_Geralt enquired._

"What would you like to drink? Ale? Wine?

\- If I may… I'd really like something warm..."

_He turned to the innkeeper in a silent question._

"Warm goat milk it is!" _she exclaimed happily. Her skirts turned around and made their way to the kitchen._

"Thank you kind sir…

-Geralt. And I'm no sir.

\- You're a knight though, _intruded the still grumpy bard. Geralt shot him a furious glance._

\- And that is Jaskier. And you are… ?

\- Sara. They call me Sara.

\- Pleasure. Curious song you were singing there. Couldn't place the words. Where is it from?"

_The woman was quiet for a moment._

"It's a song from the land I was born. A foreign, far away place. You wouldn't have heard about it.

\- Why is that so? I travel a lot.

\- He's a witcher."

_Another unwanted interruption, another furious look. Jaskier squirmed on his seat, his temerity running away from the frightening stare._

"A… A witcher? What is a witcher?"

_Both turned they head, incredulous, to the woman who had just uttered the question. Geralt focused on her before answering. There was indeed something very foreign about her, but he couldn't believe she had never met anyone of his trade, even less heard of it. Jaskier searched for his companion's look, as if to ask what he was thinking of this, but Geralt was keeping his focus on the strange woman, just as the innkeeper was back with the apple juice. He put a few coins on the table._

"Add three meals."

_The blind musician first protested, but the hostess answered kindly that it would do her no harm, to which Jaskier insisted that it was their pleasure. Geralt would have raised his eyebrow at the bard, if the smile now plainly drawn on his companion's face didn't say it clearly: what an inspiration for a new song, that the tale of the foreign lady who'd never met a witcher!_

_He answered kindly._

"I hunt monster for the people who hire me. Hence the travelling.

\- I see. That must be dangerous…

\- It is. Don't you have monsters where you were born?

\- … We do. But… We don't hire people to get rid of them.

\- Where is that place? You haven't said?

\- I said it's far away, but the name wouldn't ring a bell to you. It's beyond the mountains of the East. I've been walking for a long time."

_Her voice was calm, but Geralt could feel she was hiding something._

"And what brings you so far from your land?

\- I… I am travelling. That's all."

_The innkeeper put three plates fuming with stew in front of the party. The smell was delicious, so much that a rumble was heard. The musician apologised._

"I'm so sorry… I guess I am a bit hungry.

\- Well so am I! _conluded the bard, his spoon diving in the mouth-watering meal._


	4. Chapter 4

_As they were finishing their plates, said bard noticed he didn't often hear his companion speak as much, nor did he meet someone more privy than him. He was musing on his thoughts, when the little boy came tugging at the lady's sleeve._

"Ma'am? Can you make the little lights come again? Can you sing one more?"

_The blind musician seemed happy of the intervention. But before she could say a word, the innkeeper came chastise her progeny._

"Now, now, let the poor thing rest! Stop pestering her! And you, my poor dear, come rest to your room. You are exhausted. You'll see, it's nice and cosy, and I've lit the fire."

_The musician thanked her profusely, and apologise to the children._

"I'm sorry, but if you ask the nice man by my side, I'm sure he can sing beautiful songs for you too. You see," _she bent to whisper_ "he's a bard too!

-Will there be pretty lights?

\- There will be pretty words, which is wonderful too!"

_The children looked doubtful, but Jaskier, more than happy to shine, jumped at the chance to show his talent. He had plenty of adventurous tales to tell that would dazzle even little ones. As he started playing and singing, the blind musicien apologised to Geralt._

"I hope you don't think me ungrateful if I show obedience, and go rest. Mine is a long journey."

_Before he could ask where to, she rose, bowed her head, and prepared to follow the guidance of the motherly woman._

_The witcher quaffed his drink. Impatience and exhaustion were getting the better of him. For a reason he quite didn't understand, this whole thing was getting on his nerves. How did she even know Jaskier was a bard, for fuck's sake? None of them had said anything about it! He rose and followed their path._

_He spotted the two women making their way in the dark of the night toward the staircase, the innkeeper happily chatting to her customer, the blind musician listening with a smile, when their path crossed that of an obviously drunk large man, reeking of wine. The innkeeper got out of the way to let him pass, but the musician couldn't see anything…_

_A loud splash was heard. A large puddle of mud had welcomed her fall._

"Can't you beware?" _barked the drunkyard._

"She can't see much, you idiot! Oh my poor dear" _The innkeeper rushed to her side, as the musician stumbled to get back __on__ her feet, __as her robe dripped of mud__. But she recoiled from the touch of the woman helping her._

"I'll be fine, I'll be fine. Please.

\- We must get you out of those clothes quickly, or you'll catch death!

\- NO !"

_The shout startled the poor woman, as Geralt came closer to them._

"I'm sorry, I'll be fine. I guess I'll sleep in the stables. I can't very well soil your sheets.

\- But…

\- I promise, it'll be alright."

_The witcher made his voice heard, though barely above a whisper._

"Whatever you're afraid of they'll see, I can protect you of. I'll guard your room's door if you wish."

_She gasped at the sound of his voice. He was quite close to her, and, truth be told, that voice seemed… Reassuring? Still, she made a movement with her head to refuse._

"I'm grateful, really, but it won't be necessary. I'm used to sleeping outside."

_The witcher stood firmly by her side. Whatever it was that she was hiding, whatever it was that she feared, he truly wanted to help her at this moment._

"Yes, but you don't have to. There are other ways. And I promise you'll be safe."

_She was hesitating, he could tell._

"It… It wouldn't be enough." _She whispered._

"Why?

\- … No one, not a living soul can see. There are holes, I cannot be sure.

\- I'll stand with you. And I won't look. You have my word.

\- You couldn't. It would be awful… For you."

_What did she mean? Why did she worry her appearance would shock him that much? And why did she care?_

"I promise I wouldn't make fun." _He said wryly. She caught his wrist in a tight grisp, startling him. Her hand was so cold..._

"No, you don't understand! You… Cannot look! You cannot see!" _Her anguish was palpable. _"No, this is a bad idea. Thank you, but I'll sleep in the stable. I'll sleep in the stable!" _And she turned around before stopping, realising she had no way where to head. Gerlat took her hand in his in a gentle motion._

"I won't look, nor will anyone. I'll be in the room with you, you'll get out of those clothes, take a warm bath, I'll turn around the whole time and never look at you. There will be no mirror, no light if you wish, I'll guard your door from the inside, making sure no one, and I mean absolutely no one, can see you. And believe me, I can."

_She had heard him. She didn't say a thing. The struggle was obvious within her. Then, finally, she relented._

"I'll be… Most grateful." _Her voice was barely audible._

_Geralt turned toward the innkeeper, who had stayed silent, almost shocked, during the whole scene. She turned her heel, anouncing loudly:_

"I'll fetch warm water! Nils, show them the room. Girls, come help me!"

* * *

If you like this, please consider leaving a review, as I feed on them ^^ if you didn't, feel free to tell me why, I'm all for constructive comments ^^


	5. Chapter 5

_The innkeeper emptied the last bucket of warm water in the wooden tub, sighing with satisfaction. It had been quite a kerfuffle to bring all those buckets up without dropping their content, but here they were, with a nice warm bath, ready to welcome its guest. The whole was quite inviting, but the musician could have no idea of it, deprived of her sight as she was._

_The innkeeper turned around, facing Geralt and the blind woman._

"Now you're all set! I'll leave you to it, and soon it'll be only the nice feeling of warmth and comfort against your skin. I hope you enjoy it!"

_And with that she left them alone._

_For a few moments, there was only silence. But then the musician heard the steps of the man around the room. Geralt, loyal to his promise, was making sure there was no hole by which to peep, no ladder under the window by which to climb and see. The curtain got drawn, the shutters shut. Then he blew the candles. Soon there was only darkness, but it didn't change much for both of them. Him because he could see in the dark, her because she couldn't see at all._

"I'll turn around, guard the door. You need anything, just say it. No one will see you."

_When she heard only silence, she thanked him in a whisper. A few tentative steps in the dark, she lowered her hood, unveiling her long dark hair. Then, her delicate hands untied the piece of fabric blinding her. She blinked a few times before opening her strange eyes on a dark world. He had held his promise, no one could see a thing. She would have enjoyed, though, to finally open her eyes and see the light. See the world, objects, people. But it was not yet meant to be, apparently. Not before the end of her journey. She offered herself a pathetic smile. Not even a moonbeam would come greet her tonight._

_She unfastened the ties of her robe, let it fall to the floor. Then the costume that now was her hiding, her dress, everything. She was naked. And there was this very strange feeling of being in the dark, stark naked, with a man she didn't know that morning, but who would not look at her – who could never look at her. Was it sadness? Certainly nostalgia. Yearning. Things from the past that were now dead, and would never come again. That man in this room – Geralt, he had said – was he handsome? What did he look like? His voice said he was not a very cheerful person. His actions said he was kind. And his touch made her long. But she most likely would never know what he was like, the softness of his features, or their harshness. She would never know. And yet here he was, his back to hers, in that small room. Fate was playful again._

_Sighing, she climbed over the tub and let herself fall in the warm water. She couldn't help the happy moan from that delicious feeling. How long ago was her last bath? Her last moment of – well, not happiness, that couldn't be. But calm, peace…_

_She would have streched, had she been alone, and fearless. She would have streched all of her sore limbs – all of them. But the noise would have made him suspicious, and she didn't dare. Anything out of the way and he would be in danger of his life. She would be too. And her friends. The ones she carried with her, the ones waiting for her at home. Home. Did she still have a home? Of course not._

"How did you know Jaskier was a bard?"

_His voice interrupted her train of thoughts. Maybe for the best._

"I'm sorry?

\- You said to the children Jaskier was a bard. How did you know?"

_It was strange how there was no passion in his voice, not even the curiosity of his question. But it took her a moment to remember._

"When he took my hand, I felt it on his fingers. The strumming of the strings causes calluses that are quite typical to the art.

\- Hmm."

_It was definitely not what he had expected. From a woman who could perform magic as she was playing, he would have credited some special power, a strong intuition maybe, but not something as trivial as the feeling of Jaskier's hands. He had underestimated the simple power of deduction. And truth be told, if Geralt of Rivia could feel a bit stupid, he would have, at that moment._

_That moment when he was back to a woman. Naked. In a bath. Her hand had felt so cold in his, and yet so soft. Her lips looked luscious, her skin – what was he thinking? Was there no way he could ever control himself? She was crippled, blind, and quite unhappy. Definitely not in a state to feel any desire for anyone. Let alone a man she had just met. And didn't even know the kind of things he did. Or who he was. Would she react the same way everyone did, if she knew? Would she feel disgust? Could she see, would he see contempt in her eyes?_

"May I ask a question myself?

\- ... Yes.

\- Why did you invite me to your table tonight?"

_What could he say? Unsure, he went for the truth._

"I wanted to know wether you were dangerous."

_She laughed. A gracious laugh._

"Why would I be? Were you worried I would be too big competition for your friend?"

_He surprised himself by chuckling._

"I wasn't. He was. But magic makes me weary.

\- I see... Does no one do that in this part of the world?"

_Could he feel the slight worry piercing through her voice?_

"Not this kind."

_Silence fell in the room, quite heavy._

"It's... It's not really magic.

\- What then?

\- I can't tell you."

_He frowned, but she couldn't see it. Every question brought more questions instead of answers. He started to feel annoyed. But could he blame her? Would he have divulged all of his secrets to a complete stranger? Especially one that was guarding the door while he was having a bath? Naked? Was it hotter in this room since a moment ago?_

"You said your journey was long. Where are you going?"

_Silence answered him. He worried she'd fallen asleep, which would have been dangerous, and would have made the whole promise a lot more complicated if he had to help her, but finally he heard her voice._

"I'm going North.

\- Where to?

\- Do you always ask so many questions to a woman you've just met?

\- ... No. But I'm not usually guarding their door while they are bathing.

\- What are you doing, then?

\- I'm in the bath with them."

_He could swear he felt her blushing, and that made him chuckle, until something wet came hit the back of his head. Shock. She laughed. She had thrown her sponge at him._

"How dare you talk such to a lady?"

_He couldn't believe her audacity. But then, she was laughing. He was at a loss for words, but truth be told, the whole thing was indeed amusing._

"Are you a lady?"

_She stopped laughing altogether, and he could swear he heard her gasp. Once again, silence fell heavy in the room._

"I'm clean now. I'm coming out"

_There were a few splashes, the rustling of clothes, steps on the floor. She was behind him now. So close he could almost feel her breath on his nape. Strangely, his heart started beating a bit faster._

"I'm done. Thank you very much for your help. Should you want it, I did my best to keep the water clean."

_Still faster heartbeat. There was something curiously sensual to the idea of bathing in the same water a naked lady had a few moments before. But he tried to focus._

"I have one last question.

\- Yes?

\- Why would it be so awful for me to see you?"

_Silence. He pursued his lips in frustration. But then he felt her hot breath against his ear._

"If you did, _she whispered_, you would know. And then they would hunt you, torture you, and kill you. Because it's what they do. It's what they've done. It's what they've done to so many people already, and I'm not going to add your name on that list, Geralt."

_He was not one to feel fear easily. And more than likely, it was not exactly fear he felt at that moment. But he definitely tensed._

"May I get out of the room?

\- Hmm."

_He was about to move out of her way, but first, he turned around, facing her. He took his time to study her. Her small frame. There was something strange about her crooked back, but he couldn't quite pin it. She had put on another robe, of dark color from what he could fathom, and she was carrying the dirty lavender one on her arm. That one, too, disrobed her almost completely to any eye. But the little he could see, her chin, her nose, her lips - her lips, slightly parted, why in the world did that make him want to kiss them? He moved out of her way._

"Thank you again, Geralt. I owe you for your help, and for the meal."

_Her tone was more assertive than it had been earlier this evening. He was about to lift his hand to express the needlessness of her gratitude, when he remembered she couldn't see._

"No need to thank me.

\- I'm not sure we'll meet again, but if we don't, may I wish you the best.

\- ... Same to you. And I hope your journey will be unhindered."

_She paused, as she was to open the door._

"May the gods hear you..."


	6. Chapter 6

I can only but apologise fir the poor quality of this chapter, of which I am deeply unsatisfied. But at least I'm over it, and can now work on the next, which should feel better. I hope you'll enjoy nonetheless.

_The musician sighed as she climbed the small rock to which her oak walking stick had not been able to find any detour. The journey was proving quite trying, and she was eager to see the end of it. Thankfully the greater part was now over, and she only had a few more days before reaching her destination._

_But, truth be told, the quantity of effort she had to provide for her each and every step was also a blessing, for it prevented her to think too hard of what had been left behind, and what was still ahead. She knew that this end would be nothing but just another beginning, and that she would have to leave again, soon she hoped. But this time, if everything went well, the journey would be less tough, more merciful to her. And hopefully she could - stupid pebble! She almost tripped and waved her arm quickly to regain balance. She chastised herself. Better stay focused._

* * *

_When Geralt had come downstairs, quite early in the morning, he had learned from the innkeeper that the blind musician had already left the inn. He had been surprised to feel a pang of - what? regret? Not quite so. Something alike maybe. But he had other fish to fry, bigger than this one, and he couldn't spend too much time musing on a beautiful voice and luscious lips. Speaking of voice, he quickly enquired about his travelling companion, not so fresh after a night of entertaining, but who was nonetheless __eager to follow him on an new adventure that would prove matter for a new ballad._

* * *

_The path was too calm, now, but strangely, it was not the constant anguish that was driving her since she had undertaken this journey, that everlasting worry she felt, of not coming back in time for the worse to be prevented, for her friends to be freed, it was not that awful feeling that she was desperately struggling to keep silent, in the back of her mind, that was nagging her, taking advantage of the easiness with which her steps were placing themselves on the road one after the other, but rather the memory of a deep voice, of a soft reassuring touch in her hand, and it was as confusing as it was comforting. Guilt was hitting her. How could she let herself go while so many people were in pain because of her, and were anxiously waiting for her, how could she give in to this memory, and give up their own, at any moment?_

* * *

_Jaskier and Geralt had had to separate. The bard had been asked, and accepted, to perform for some days at the local court. Curiously, people were eager to hear about the Witcher's adventure, but not necessarily to meet him in person. Geralt had shrugged, grunted, and Jaskier had been on his way, while himself was travelling through the forest where there were rumours of some ghoulish creatures. A forest that just so happened to be on the way to the north._

* * *

_She had always enjoyed silence. Silence meant no one was screaming, yelling, no one was hurting. War wasn't silent, death was rarely so. But as her mind was trying to focus on her feet meeting the ground, she was feeling that months of silence were becoming deafening. Luckily, if she had had to deprive herself of her sight for the sake of a safe journey, she could still hear, listen. The chirping of the birds was a nice music to her ears. She surprised herself by singing softly to accompany them. Part of her was __finding solace in the sweet melody. In her terrifying loneliness, she was not so alone._

* * *

_Geralt had been riding for quite a few days, and he was sure he was nearing the menace. He had paused to examine the traces on the trees, the scent in the air, everything pointed to a giant arachnid, a centipede most likely. This would prove a good kill, and might earn him a nice sum at the closest town._

_If the journey through the forest had not been the relief he had hoped, maybe the fight would be. Curiously, he had been distracted all the way, and without the annoyance of Jaskier's music, he had been unable to wash away the thoughts of a hooded silhouette whose hot breath he could still feel against the nape of his neck. He frowned, strongly dissatisfied with himself. Musing on such thoughts was dangerous. It's what could get him killed._

* * *

_It didn't take her long to register that something was amiss, but she didn't immediately grasped what it was. She stopped singing. Listened. Then she got it. Silence. Complete silence. The birds. She couldn't hear the birds anymore._

* * *

_The scent was stronger with every step of his horse. Soon, the gleaming black of the creature's shell was in sight. Geralt dismounted, and unsheathed his sword. Slowly, he walked toward the monster, which was quietly laying on the floor. He was not that close to it, but the element of surprise might work in his favour. Every step was bringing him closer._

* * *

_She was not one to panic easily. She had had her fair share of terrors in the past, which had hardened her soul to the point of being hardly reachable by the element of surprise. But there was a strong difference with the present situation. She was blinded. If there was a danger, she wouldn't be able to see it. She only listen and smell. And none of those senses told her anything yet._

* * *

_But suddenly, the hundred legs of the beast came in movement. The creature slithered quickly, and almost disappeared. Geralt ran after it. He felt his blood turn cold when he spotted what the monster was after. A lavender hooded silhouette. He ran faster._

* * *

_Then finally she heard it. Between a growl and a shriek. Like a hundred bows on the strings of her lute. Like the sound Marullai had made when she had first tried to teach him how to play, out of their mother's sight. Only louder. Terror washed over her._

* * *

_Panic washed over him. He was running as fast as he could, and it felt as if he would never be close enough. He yelled her name._

"Sara!"

* * *

_Whatever the danger, she simply couldn't afford to die. Or rather, be incapacitated for longer a time than necessary. There was too much at stake. Too many lives that depended on this journey. She clenched her fists to steady herself. The sound had been behind her. So, she did the only reasonnable thing. She ran._

* * *

"Sara!"

_But the musician hadn't heard him, obviously, and she had started running. The beast shrieked again before stalking its prey._

* * *

_She was searching her satchel, desperate to find the small vial she was looking for. In the darkness of her world, she could only feel the small engravings she had made before leaving. Her fingers were stroking them as her feet were carrying her away, and she prayed neither root nor rock would come in her way._

_There! There it was! She uncorked it, threw it behind her, running as fast as she could. Hopefully, it would work. Hopefully - fuck!_

* * *

_He had seen her throw something away along her frantic race, but nothing that seemed to deter the monster. And he could still not reach them! Finally, finally he was there, he was close -_

"Fuck!"

_He saw her hit the tree at full speed. He saw her turn around, facing the monster towering her. He was just behind it. It was only a matter of instants. He lifted his sword..._

* * *

_She heard it. Distinctly. The quiet noise of the vial being broken. Whatever the danger, it had stepped on it. Her voice didn't quiver when she yelled the closing of her trap._

"KASIRGA!"

* * *

_The column of air raised high in the air, twirling. The centipede spinned around repeatdly, shrieking, trapped in the whirwind, before being ejected violently aside. It smashed against a tree, collapsing with it. Geralt stared in awe only for a moment. Then he was by her side._


	7. Chapter 7

Dear readers, I am ever so sorry for the delay in my posting! I'm trying my very best to be regular, but exhaustion has prevented me from doing so :'( as a cry for your forgiveness, and a small compensation to your patience, I shall post twice tonight. So I hope you'll enjoy both chapters ^^

* * *

_They had been quiet for a long time. The intermittent snapping of the wood in the fire he had built to warm them was the only audible sound around. But she did not really mind. Silence suited her. It was quite comforting, after that unnerving encounter with this howling creature. She would not deny she had been scared. And she had been so times enough not to enjoy it. But she knew it was one of the numerous prices to pay to achieve her goal._

_She had calmed down. She was now sipping the wine he had offered her, taking her time to enjoy it, as she was enjoying the warmth of the fire. Its heat seemed to lick her hands and her face, a feeling she more than welcomed after the emotions of the day. She had been surprised when she had heard him. He had seemed worried. She was grateful for it. Some sympathy was nice after... Well, after everything actually. But now a small, nagging, new worry was emerging in her stomach, and she didn't like it. A worry about him. If he met her path, again and again, was he in danger? Was she unknowingly putting him at risk? She sincerely hoped he wasn't reaching for her on purpose. He was unaware of the perils, and, as she had already said, she didn't want to expose any more people to it._

_But that was preposterous. His whole trade was to rid the land of the very kind of creatures she had just unluckily met. It was pure chance he happened to be the one slaying her own attacker. Wasn't it? She didn't feel like pushing luck nevertheless, so she thought it was more than time to leave him alone._

"Thank you very much for the help, and for the wine, kind sir, but I'll be on my way now. I've delayed my leave long enough."_ She extended her hand to give him her cup, but she heard the flowing of some liquid instead, and the cup fell slightly heavier in her hand._

"You might not see it, but night has come. It is dark, and creatures like the one that crossed your path earlier just love it when little things like you walk on their territory unaware. They make perfect preys."

_She did not even shiver._

"I see. I'd rather not give you more unnecessary work, I suppose, if I am to excite them by my very presence."

_She heard him chuckle._

\- ... I'd be grateful."

_She smiled in return._

_Did she know he had been studying her, from the moment they had been sitting down, taking the opportunity to do so given to him by her blindness? He could not distinguish much. The hood, then the night, had prevented him from doing so. But he seemed to try and absorb every little detail of her he could grasp. This strange woman, who had managed, through her disability, to first flee from a centipede, and then neutralise it, who could use magic, and spoke words he didn't know... He felt nowhere near to solve any of this, and every moment in her presence just added more questions to it._

"Is my sole presence here though not temptation enough for them?" _She asked, cutting __his course of thought._

"I'll be the repelent. And if need be, I'll take care of them."

_She let out a little laugh._

"I guess that will make you my protector. Is this the kind of work you are to hire for as well?

\- Not usually. But I can make an exception I guess."

_She could hear him smile._

"But you see, Geralt, I am most embarrassed, as I have nothing to pay you for your service, but my music. And I'm afraid it will be poor compensation for your hard work.

\- ... Actually, you have something else to trade that might interest me."

_She refused to hear a double-entendre in her words. As such, she didn't flinch. They were obviously playfully joking, so she went on._

"And what might that be?

\- ... Why are you going North?"

_She flinched. She'd have preferred the inuendo._

"You never give up, do you?"

_She paused for a moment. Hesitating. But after all, he had protected her, more than once. First by making sure no one was looking at her in her bath, then today, by finishing the menace that she had, temporarily, she knew, rendered harmless. And he was apparently willing to do more for her. So she thought she could maybe give in a little._

"North, she answered slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, at the foot of the mountain, lies a monastery."

_She was taking her time, as if every word could fuel the fire into a full blaze._

"I've sustained injuries. As you can most likely see for yourself. There was a touch of irony in her voice. I'm going there to get healed.

\- Hmmm.

\- It will be a long process. But I'm confident.

\- And how did you get injured?"

_She could have thought he was being inquisitive. And in a way, he was. But she was exhausted. The heavy burden she was carrying for so long was sometimes too much for her, and... Well, she trusted him. He was strong. **Marullai had been strong, too.** She desperately tried to ignore the voice in her head. Marullai had been young. He had been willing to give too much. She had not been able to protect him. Bittersweet irony. It was before she knew the extent of her power. She gave in, tired._

_He saw her shoulders fall a bit._

"There has been a war. I fought. I got injured. Story of many."

_Story of many, indeed. But he wouldn't have taken her for a warrior. It was strange, though, the way she was telling her story with so very few words. He thought of Jaskier, growing impatient every time he was doing the same._

"In your land?

\- Yes.

\- What is its name?"

_She took a moment before answering, savoring the wine in her cup._

\- That I cannot tell you. Yet."

_Was she trying to say they would meet again? Or was she simply feeding him hopes of what he wanted to know so that he would let go? And why was he hoping so much for the former?_

"And the words you sung at the inn? What do they mean?"

_She smiled._

"It's a pretty song, about love and hope I guess."

_She hummed softly, started singing without her lute._

Somewhere, a voice calls, in the depths of my heart

May I always be dreaming, the dreams that move my heart

So many tears of sadness, uncountable through and through

I know on the other side of them I'll find you

Everytime we fall down to the ground we look up to the blue sky above

We wake to it's blueness, as for the first time

Though the road is long and lonely and the end far away, out of sight

I can with these two arms embrace the light

As I bid farewell my heart stops, in tenderness I feel

My silent empty body begins to listen to what is real

The wonder of living, the wonder of dying

The wind, town, and flowers, we all dance one unity

Somewhere a voice calls in the depths of my heart

keep dreaming your dreams, don't ever let them part

Why speak of all your sadness or of life's painfull woes

Instead let the same lips sing a gentle song for you

The whispering voice, we never want to forget,

in each passing memory always there to guide you

When a miror has been broken, shattered pieces scattered on the ground

Glimpses of new life, reflected all around

Window of beginning, stillness, new light of the dawn

Let my silent, empty body be filled and reborn

No need to search outside, nor sail across the sea

Cause here shining inside me, it's right here inside me

I've found a brightness, it's always with me

_The words were beautiful, indeed. And her voice was really melodious. There was an unmissable hint of sadness in both._

"A song about love and hope, he repeated.

\- Have you ever been in love, Geralt?

\- ... Yes."

_Love might be a strong word, be he would not insult any by denying them their lot._

"What happened?

\- Life."

_He served himself some more wine._

"You ?

\- Yes.

\- What happened?

\- Death."

_He had not seen that one coming. But war often brought that closure to many a beautiful story. And sometimes, war was not even needed. Renfri's sad smile came to his mind, for the briefest of moment._

"I'm sorry."

_She didn't answer. Maybe it was better to leave her alone with her thoughts for the moment._

"I'll go catch us some dinner."


	8. Chapter 8

A short one, but I hope you'll appreciate it ^^ Don't forget to review, it makes my heart happy ^^

* * *

_Dealing with a blind woman meant something quite new for the witcher. He had to talk. She couldn't understand much just by seeing him. Because she simply couldn't see. So he had to bend his habits and make use of his tongue much more than usual. It felt odd._

"I hope you like rabbit." _He did declare, holding the two animals by their ears._

_She had not moved since he had left her. He sat down by the fire, and proceeded to skin them._

"I know what you're thinking." _She said. He chuckled. That was a statement no one could make._

"And what am I thinking?

\- You want to escort me to the North."

_His smile died. She was right._

"So ?

\- So this is a bad idea.

\- How?

\- I already told you, it is dangerous.

\- Oh, because you are dangerous?

\- Undirectly, yes.

\- Let me guess. Many people have been hurt because of you.

\- Exactly.

\- And how many on this continent exactly?

\- ...

\- That's what I thought.

\- How does that make it any less dangerous?

\- How do you know I'm not the danger?"

_She laughed, and he felt the slightest bit offended._

"You have no idea, _she told him sternly_, of what they're able to do. And quite frankly, you don't ever want to find out.

\- Dammit! H_e swore, throwing both rabbit and knife on the ground, standing out of annoyance. _So what, you'll be the one protecting me by sparing me the danger of just being by your side? While you, blind as a bat, you're going to face it all by yourself?

\- You do not understand, _she rose as well, facing the sound of his voice, her own voice heavy with anger and despair _I'd rather face a thousand deaths than seeing one more person die. And yes, it sounds cheesy. But I've lived it, and I'm tired. I'm tired of thinking that if I have only ever said no to them, they would still be breathing air at that very moment."

_She was so small, so full of anger, so passionnate, and yet, she seemed so fragile! Her lips were quite the temptation, and he had to strongly remind himself that she was vulnerable, that he would be taking advantage of her, and that they were in the middle of an argument._

"And yet I want to come with you, to make sure everything goes right, and that you arrive at your monastery alive. Is that such a fanciful concern?

\- But why do you have it? You do not know me, you do not owe me anything. You can be on your way, forget about my very existence, and everything will be fine! _He could feel the angst in her voice._

\- Because you came to cross my path, twice, and because I want to."

_She was silent for a few moments. Was she relenting?_

"You're a man of trade. You do kill monsters for a living. You're not a bodyguard, and I can't pay you."

_He laughed._

"Is that your last argument? That's the best you can do? I'll tell you what. _He came closer. She could almost feel him against her. He heard her heartbeat accelerate. But she didn't smell of fear. It was something else. And he knew exactly what __it__ was. Truth be told, it was making him drowsy a bit__. _If you can truthfully tell me that you don't want me by your side, I'll leave it alone."

_She pursued her lips, clenched her fists. Her internal struggle was evident. Good. At least he wasn't the only one battling with themselves, as he refuse to even try to understand why he felt so concerned about her safety, and wanted so much to be part of her... what? journey? life?_

"Fine, _she finally conceded. _But when you find yourself being skinned alive, you won't complain I didn't warn you."

_She sat down, annoyed. Was that a pout he could see on her lips? He sat down and resumed his preparation for their meal._

"Do you feel so lonely that you are desperate to burden yourself with a crippled like me? What have you done with your friend, the bard?

\- Jaskier has been asked to entertain, so he's entertaining. I'm travelling on my own for now." _He would never admit to missing his noisy company._

"Well, you're not alone anymore..." _Still that same worry in her voice. _"May you never come to regret it."


	9. Chapter 9

I am ever so sorry for my tardiness :'( I can't believe I have not posted in the whole week! I'll try my best to do better next week, and will treat you to as many chapters as I can

I hope you'll enjoy this one ^^

* * *

_Night has long since fallen over their heads, the fire had almost died save for the few reddening brands, and Geralt was having trouble finding sleep. He had to admit, he was starting to question his own sanity. Time and again he had grumbled against Jaskier's constant presence by his side, claimed he missed the silence of his loneliness, the joys of not having to care for another human being, and everything he could muster against the unending company of the bard._

_Truth be told, he had grown accustomed to his society, his perpetual singing, neverending babbling, the conversational monologue he so often tuned out until remained just a colourful buzzing sound that was not such a nuisance in the end. He got used to it. Hell, he even _enjoyed_ it! Jaskier was now a friend, even if Geralt would have gotten himself reduced to smithereens before he'd admit he liked him. But so it was._

_Still, he sometimes craved for a moment alone, and now, finally he had gotten just that, and what did he do? Enroll as a bodyguard for the next breathing creature he met. What was wrong with him? He let out a silent frustrated growl._

_The truth was, he knew perfectly well the dangers she was facing. The creatures she will undoubtedly meet. These same monsters whose riddance constituted his trade. The very same he had discarded a few hours earlier. With her help, he had to concede. She was not exactly a damsel in distress, and had proved quite capable of taking care of herself. But But for how long? How many times will she be able to flee danger? She had not killed the beast, merely rendered it unconscious. Soon enough, it would have woken up, would have maybe chased after her, and then..._

_Once again, he snarled silently, irked. Why the fuck did he care? She was nothing to him! And she had insisted he left her travel alone. So why was he so fucking obstinate?_

_Because he just couldn't abandon somebody walking to their certain death. He had no idea how she had survived up until now, but if her journey had consisted of mostly walking through the woods and the forests of the continent, as it seemed, it was a miracle she hadn't been harmed. And now, he just _had _to make sure it would stay that way until she arrived at her stupid monastery. Yes he was mad. At destiny, who seemed to enjoy his miseries immensely enough to just throw another being on his path with clear a mission for him, and at him who simply couldn't prevent himself from playing the white knight._

"I'm an idiot" _He mumbled._

_A sleeping sigh answered him. He snorted. At least one of them had no trouble sleeping._

* * *

_She felt guilty. She felt stupid. She should have protested some more. She should have _lied_, pretended she didn't want his company, didn't want him to tag along, didn't enjoy having him around, didn't want more of him, his conversation even if it was sparse, his... His friendship... For the gods' sake, why did she have to involve someone else in this mess? Weren't there enough of them already?_

_But she couldn't have lied._

_In her current state, she couldn't have sustained the consequences of even so little a lie. This matter of fact was one of the__ few__ bets she had made with life and destiny__, and she knew she had to hold her part if she wanted to make it in one piece. She was thankful part of it didn't include her being rendered mute and deaf as well. And the worst part was, there was no guarantee it would even work. But at least, no question would be asked, and everybody would be safe. Wouldn't they? They would. They had to._

_Gods she was so tired!_

_She had had trouble sleeping since the beginning of this journey. True, last night had been a little better, with the false security provided by someone that seemed so strong a protector. She knew she shouldn't let herself go to it. But it was easy. It was comforting. And he was reassuring. He had destroyed that... Thing... She had fought with. Would she have had time to escape, if she had been let to face it alone? She hated being so helpless. She knew of her own value in battle. She knew her power, she trusted her magic to be enough, even without her sword. But her injuries made her this insignificant, stupidly helpless creature, and she hated it. And she hated even more to think about it. It was wrong. It was not helpful. Facing this adversity was another way of being powerful, she knew it._

_She was so tired._

_This full night's sleep had just made her realised how she craved for more. No nightmares this time. She wanted to sleep in. It was impossible. She had felt the sun kissing her face even so low in the sky and had known she had to rise. And she couldn't even think about abandonning her new travel companion, even to protect him. It would have hurt him. __**Better hurt than dead.**__Maybe. But the man seemed stubborn, and she had no doubt she would have met him again._

_So there she was, on her way, not alone anymore. She heard a soft snore. She scoffed. At least one of them had no trouble sleeping._


	10. Chapter 10

_He had packed everything. Surprisingly, his new travelling companion had been pretty helpful considering her state. But why was he so surprised? She had been travelling alone before him, maybe for a long time. He had not asked her how long. Had not dared. She seemed to hold onto her secrets, and he was finding himself the one to struggle to hold his tongue so as not to pressure someone. Jaskier had always been quite the chatterbox. Now it felt like the tables were turned._

_He had prepared to mount Roach, before thinking. He couldn't very much let her walk._

"Can you ride?

\- Why yes, I can, why do you ask?

\- ... I have a horse.

\- Yes, I gathered that much from the noise of the hooves on the ground, and the fact that you talked to it when you fed it.

\- Her.

\- Oh it's a lady horse?

\- ... Yes..."

_When did his world became this place where such conversation could happen? He insisted._

"Maybe you can ride her with me."

_He saw her reluctance. Well, not exactly reluctance. She did not seem frightened by the mare. But the whole idea seemed to bring a strong hesitation._

"I don't mind walking.

\- I'm sure you don't, but you don't have to."

_She came closer, searched for the mare with her hand. He reached for her, grasping her hand, and put it on Roach's beautiful coat. He pretended not to hear her gasp at his touch, nor to feel a sudden warmth himself. She petted the animal silently for a moment._

"She is very soft, s_he said hesitantly._

\- She is. And quite meek, I promise.

\- That's not... I'm sure she is."

_It was strange because, again, he could almost see her internal struggle. But why was she so timid about the whole idea, that's what he couldn't grasp._

"It's not that I don't trust her. Or you.

\- Then what is it? _He was starting to feel annoyed. Nothing made sense, nothing had made sense about her, certainly not her constant fear, and he wanted nothing but to cut through it with a sword to free her from it. But alas, he couldn't._

_She took some time to answer, soflty carressing the gentle mare.__ Roach didn't seem to mind. She headbutted Geralt, who was petting Geralt, as if to give her agreement._

"How would I ride, disabled as I am?

\- You can ride in front of me.

\- No. You would touch my back, which can't happen. And I would be on the way of your seeing the path.

\- Then you can ride behind me.

\- But I would have to... Hold onto you. _He saw her blush slightly._

\- Would that be so bad?"

_She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she did something strange. She turned toward him. He could hear her heart beating against her rib cage. And he could swear it was beating slightly stronger than a minute ago._

"I have... a strange request.

\- ... Which is?

\- ... Can I... Can I touch your face? I cannot see you, but I would be able to... Feel you."

_Why did he feel like all air had been taken out of his lungs? He couldn't even form an answer right away. He mumbled._

"... Do."

_She lifted two tentative hands toward him, searching for him, much like she had for Roach. He made a move to help her when he thought suddenly..._

"Wait!

\- What is it? _She asked, withdrawing her hands._

\- You will be able to see me, but I still haven't seen you. If you get to feel my face, it's only fair I get to see yours."

_She pursued her lips. Still the same struggle. He didn't dare move, afraid to make her regret the whole idea. Then she lifted her hands to the hood of her cloak, slowly lowering it. She slid her hands under her hair, tucked under the cloak, and lifted the glossy bulk out of its prison, before letting it flow behind her in a beautiful golden brown cascade. Then, she slipped her hands behind her head to untie the knot keeping her blindfold in place. She slowly lowered the thick band of fabric, revealing her whole face. She was keeping her eyes closed, but he could admire two thin arched eyebrows on top of frivolously long lashes. Luscious lips, he already knew of. But the whole was breathtaking. She truly was a splendid woman. Even her crooked back didn't deny her beauty. He felt a slight pain in his heart that he refused to understand in any way._

"Now, _she whispered, _I get to see you.

\- ... Yes." _His answered was barely more audible._

_She came closer, and he had to clench his fists at his sides not to pull her full__y__ against him. Her hands reached for him, he felt her gentle touch on his face, and he had to bit back a moan. __He felt like an idiot. __Luckily, she couldn't see him blush. He did his best to stand still as she explored his face, her slender fingers running along his nose, his cheeks, carressing his eyes, touching his lips, feeling his brow.__ She was so close__ to him he could just bend and kiss her. Just. Bend. Just..._

_Finally__ she withdrew her small, soft hands from his face, and he could swear she was slightly__ trembling. He was thankful, for he was not sure how much more self control he could muster to prevent himself from doing something he could only regret._

"I will ride behind you."

_What? Ah... Yes... There was that. The whole point of this was to help her decide to agree to what he had offered her previously: riding with him. On Roach. Right behind him. Where he will feel her. Wonderful._

"Well let's not waste anymore time then." _He replied with a strong irritation in his voice he regretted feeling._

_But the minute he reached for her__ waist__, to lift her and put her on the saddle, she moved away. He stopped, confused._

"Climb on your horse, I will follow."

_Again, nothing made sense. How would she do that without any help? But at this point, he felt tired to argue with her. He didn't even bother to reply, swiftly mounted the mare, and held his hand to her, a hand he knew perfectly well she couldn't see._

_But she didn't take it. Pulling support from the back of the mare, she hopped and climbed behind him, without much effort it seemed._

"I'll hold onto you, if you don't mind.

\- I don't."

_Reaching in front of her, she circled his waist with her arms, and leaned against him. He felt her small breast against his back, and felt_ something _harden. Marvelous. Everything was just marvelous._


	11. Chapter 11

_It had been a few days, now. Uneventful in some way. There had been some... unpleasant was his way of earning a living, she had gathered. There monsters. He would kill them. People would pay him. Strangely, she had noticed, in the hamlets, villages and towns they crossed, nobody seemed very happy to receive them. By herself, she had attracted various feelings, pity, indifference, admiration for her music at best, scor for her infirmities at worst, but since that man had attached his steps to hers, the reaction was almost unanimous: disgust. Why was that so, she at first couldn't understand. After all, his trade was not a peculiarly shameful one, and was rather helful to the common good, if they faced that many monsters attacks as it seemed._

_Back in her land, they had no one whose main occupation it was to take care of such problem. First, there was less of them. Second, the knights dealt with such nuisance when it arose. Finally, there was... Well, herself, and her company, but it was not their main occupation. Maybe she should worry more. Maybe there was something she didn't know about her motherland._

_Or maybe this part of the world was just appallingly infested!_

_In any way, she was starting to truly appreciate her chance of such a companion during her travel. She would not deny she was feeling far much safer with him than she had been alone. He didn't speak much, but then neither did she, and she would not hold that against him. Quite the contrary. She enjoyed the tranquility he provided her. The only fault to that would have been that she now had far too much time to think about her trouble. But the sporadic fights her new friend had to engage in, to which she could only listen from afar, was some sort of interruption to her train of thought. Not one she particularly appreciated, though._

_They had set their camp for the night, and her escort had been busy gathering wood for a fire she had worked towards starting, before he went hunting something for their dinner. Now they were enjoying the warmth of the fire, and she decided to play a bit, something it seemed to her she hadn't done in some time, just for her own pleasure, rather than from a crowd. She grasped her lute, strummed the instrument absentmindedly. She was not playing anything in particular, it seemed, only trying to find chords that were pleasant to the ear. But soon, she wanted to treat her new friend to some entertainment. Her fingers seemed eager to deliver some sort of beauty._

"What do you want me to play?"

_Silence answered her at first, and she was worried he had fallen asleep, but then..._

"Something about you."

_Her fingers stilled on the lute._

"That is a dangerous request.

\- Let me choose my danger, for once."

_Well, he might have had no idea of the consequences, but he had proven strong, dependable, and she could indulge him for once._

"I think you'll find it might be about you, too.

Her heart underneath cries quietly

This part of me I choose not to see

What lives must I take for fealty's sake?

How much blood must stain this warrior's blade?

War leaves its trail in moonlight so pale

Its shadows they flow in rivers, in rivers

So put on my mask I'll go where they ask

So I might once again see the

Roses of May

Staining my soul and stinging my eyes

The red on my hands won't wash away, wash away

No where to run from what I have done

I'm no longer, no longer

A Rose of May

_This time again, the three balls of light emerged from the notes, flying around her hand, joining their voices to hers._

Fate holds the blade before you mirrored in maiden's eyes

Far from myself I fly into the perilous skies

And they said

Follow the blade before you fear fall and courage rise

Leave all your tears behind you far from where innocence lies

Cage of the kings no need for wings

So turn them to stone from roses to bone

When you look at me what do you see?

This costume I weave disfiguring me...

War leaves its trail in moonlight so pale

Its shadows they flow in rivers, in rivers

So put on my mask I'll go where they ask

So I might once again see the

Roses of May

Staining my soul and stinging my eyes

The red on my hands won't wash away, wash away

No where to run from what I have done

I'm no longer, no longer

A Rose of May

Storm clouds are creeping closer danger is drawing near

Why am I not protecting all that I once held dear?

And you said

Break free from all that holds you kings hand and maiden's tear

Run now into my arms together we'll conquer our fears

Led here by fate

No longer afraid

So here now I lay

My Roses of May*

"You never told me how you do that.

\- How I do what?

\- The... Light... Things... What are they? You said they weren't magic, so what are they?"

_She didn't answer right away. She was parcimonious with the things she told him, because it seemed every word was further endangering him. But again, she couldn't very well frustrate him of every single piece of information he asked for, could she? He was now part of her world, and it was only fair she told him what this world consisted of. Or part of it._

"They are not magic indeed. I do not summon them. They like my music, and have graced me with their living in my instrument, feeding from the notes I play."

_The red one seemed willing to play with her hand, dancing a graceful ballet around the delicate fingers._

"They are fairies."

_Great was the witcher's suprise. Fairies were some kind of creatures he had simply never encountered. They didn't exist on the continent. Not to his knowledge. He felt he wasn't any wiser._

_She went on._

"Fairies are not especially common in my land. But they do exist. They are quite proud and independant. It is a great honour these three have done me."

_She made a gesture with her hand, and the red ball flew lightly over to the witcher. He had some sort of a reflex, opening his hands as if to catch it, in a welcoming gesture, and the little light went down with something like a hum._

"This one likes you."

_He watched the little ball of light grow a shade darker with some confusion._

"Hm."

_She had given him a lot tonight, and he was definitely appreciating it. In her song were the battles she had fought, against some ennemies and against herself. Her regrets. He understood that. She had told him once that she was a warrior. It was strange to imagine her with a sword instead of her lute. The little light flying happily between his hands was coloring them with a red shade he almost recognised blood in._

* * *

_*Lyrics to Rose of May are the creation of the lovely Kate Covington, definitely not my own. __ /bNHtbw4Kyf0_


	12. Chapter 12

"So?

\- So my queen..."

_The man hesitated. No matter the words that would then get out of his mouth, the result would be the same. Highly unpleasant._

"SO?!"

_Insisted the white haired angered woman, losing patience. The man, seeing the fury breking in the eyes of his queen, hastily finished his sentence with a trembling voice._

"We have no idea where she is!"

_Silence answered him, a silence worse than a thousand shouts. He was brave, known for his courage, and his unfailing loyalty. But at this moment, he was scared. When the queen raised her voice, it was like a breaking glass._

"You mean to tell me, that an army of exceptionally trained soldiers, led by my best generals, have managed to let such a little mouse escaped them?"

_Her tone was calm, but it was even worse than if she had yelled at him. The man became white. He did not dare to answer._

_She laughed. A deafening laugh, as sharp as a death sentence. He tried to plead his cause, stuttering._

"But... But we made some prisoners! Among the finest! Lord Carolus himself...

\- I. Do not. Care. I would not care if Ansee herself was held prisoner within our walls! You will find her, do you understand? You will not rest, nor will anyone, until you have found that little whore. You will find her, and you will either bring her to me, or her rotting carcass. Is that understood?

\- Y... Yes my queen."

_The man bowed deeply before scurrying away._

* * *

_It was a lovely meadow, full of wild tall flowers. __She felt the light breeze on her face, a feeling of happiness. Bellflower, poppies, cornflowers that she grazed with her hands. Everything was so peaceful. But there was something amiss The stem of this lily was white. And it started to __wrap itself around her wrist. She t__hought__ nothing of it at first, but then the stem of the poppy she had picked did the same, and there was more. Long, thin, white flowery strings squeezing her wrists. Uncomfortable. Painful. She couldn't move. More of them. Around her chest. Around her face. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't cry for help. They pierced her. White turning to blood red. She wanted to scream, but no sound was coming out __as the white daggers gashed their way through her body__.__ The dark __white haired __figure roamed __over__ her. That icy voice. _"I found you." _The room was black. She gasped for air. She was alone. But she knew it was false. She knew there was someone else. Many. Many around her. Outside. Outside of the room. It was warm. It was hot. The snapping and cracking of the fire. But it was not for her. She heard them. Those cries, those howls, those screams, yelling for mercy. The smell of burning flesh. She pounded the walls, her screams joining theirs. _"No! No! Please! I'm begging you! No!" _The icy voice. _"It's your fault." _She couldn't hear her own voice. Only the one taunting her in a whisper. _"It's your fault. It's your fault."

_Her screams woke her up, but she couldn't open her eyes. Something was in the way. She was trembling, crying, begging, and there was only darkness. How could she know she had truly awaken?_

_Screams had woken him up with a start. He had sat quickly, reached for his dagger, but he soon came to understand. She had screamed. He called for her, worried. Where they under attack?_

"Sara what's wrong?

\- Wh… What… Where am I? Who are you? My eyes… I can't open my eyes!"

_He quickly scanned the darkness. Nothing, no one. He sighed._

"Sara, it's me, Geralt, remember? We're in the forest. We're travelling to the North. It's night time. You have a blindfold on your eyes. You can't see, remember?"

_He was trying to be as gentle as possible. She was confused. He got up and reached for her hand, but she withdraw it with a start, as if he'd burnt her. She was breathing heavily. Her whole body was shaking. Her blindfold was wet. Tears. He kneeled by her side, softly._

"It's fine, you're safe. I promise."

_She tentatively put a trembling hand on his. He turned it around to take it. She let him do it._

"I'm… I'm fine. Truly. It was… Just a dream. I… I'm sorry." _She said, in a false reassuring voice. She even tried to force a smile on her lips._

"Shhhh, it's alright, you don't have to be strong all the time."

_A moment went by. And then, she brought her free hand to her face, and started crying, soflty, as if she was afraid to disturb the air by her tears. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, receiving her hot tears. He didn't dare to take her in his arms, but he __drew her softly against him, and she let herself rubbed her arms gently, cautious not to touch her back, as had always seemed so weary. She cried against his shoulder for a long time._

"I'm so exhausted! I don't know how much more I can take! I don't want it! I don't want this anymore!"

_He felt desperate. He had nothing to give her, nothing to make it better, because she had always refused to let him know what it was all about. He felt helpless to help her._

_But he could give her safety, for now, and a shoulder to cry on. So he did just that._

"It's alright. You're safe. With me you're safe. I'll protect you. Nothing will happen. I'll make sure you're safe as long as you'll have me."

_He was right. He was strong. He was kind. She felt safe with him. She felt safe in his arms. For now, at least, she was safe, she was not alone. Even if she carried this heavy burden on her sole, small shoulders, at least someone was holding her hand, giving her courage, giving her comfort. She felt a strong hand caressing her soft curls. Her hood must have fallen. She didn't care. It was lighting a small sparkle of joy in her heart, a feeling she thought she would never feel again. A small hint of happiness. She didn't dare dwell on it. Something was happening in her heart. She knew she couldn't allow it to happen fully._

_Not yet._

_But she could savor the moment. It was full of hope._


	13. Chapter 13

_It had been a long journey. Days, weeks had gone by, during which they had ridden through the dark forests of the continents, through more lively places too. He had tried to avoid swamps or other dangerous places. He had taken it upon him to lead her through the continent, and she was fleeing some danger, it would have been foolish to look for some new ones._

_Roach had carried the additional weight without much complaint, and the witcher had even gotten used to feeling the small embrace, and now managed to avoid getting a hard-on every time he felt her breast squishing against his back. Small Victories._

_Still he did not know much more about his travelling companion. Save that, as hard as it was to admit, he definitely enjoyed her company.__ She was a mystery, carrying some exoticism he didn't understand, a perfume of foreign places, of which weeks in her company had not taught him much, but which he was starting to yea rn for. Or, rather than the places, it was her he was longing for. More of her. He wanted to touch her, to see her. There had been women he couldn't have had, of course, but he had never lingered much on them. It was better to give up than to feel the pain of being unwanted. But here, for the first time, he wanted, badly, and could have sworn he was wanted as well, but for whatever reasons that were not his to understand, this could not be. This was stupidly dramatic, and he would have confronted her about it, had it not been for the whole situation. He could not act selfishly in this one occurrence, where his sole self-given mission was to escort someone f__ree of any harm__._

_So he had restrained himself, kept everything inside, so as not to hurt either of them. It was all for the best, even if he felt an ever growing pain in his chest, amplified by certainty of their forthcoming separation. And again he felt it, this annoying pang, as she was holding him softly for balance on the back of the mare._

_Soon enough, he could see the white heights of the mountains ahead, and following her instructions, the high towers of a stone building was in sight. They had reached their goal. So this was where she was going. The place she wanted to reach so much she had been ready to go through the trouble of crossing an entire continent without the use of her sight. Part of him was happy he had been able to spare her the pains of walking alone in an unknown place for weeks. The other part regretted to have offered her to ride. It had made their travel shorter. He would have to say goodbye earlier because of that... Geralt frowned at himself. These were wrong thoughts, good for no one, especially not himself. He chased them from his mind._

"We're there. The monastery is in sight."

_She said nothing. She wasn't sure how to feel. The end was near, of a painful journey, of much trouble, of hiding too. But also, of lovely companionship. She had enjoyed travelling with the witcher far much more than she should have, she knew it. But she wouldn't reject the little comfort she had managed to grasp through so much trials._

_Still, there was no room for this kind of yearning. She will have to say goodbye, and go back to her life, or rather to getting that life back, and the ones of those she was carrying with her as well. Not to say anything of all the ones who were anxiously, painfully waiting for her back in her homeland. She sighed._

_There was no court around the tall yellow building. Only the grass of the meadow on the one side, the sturdy rock of the mountain on the other. The horse walked silently out of the forest. A few monks were working outside. One of them appeared to have spotted them, and quickly disappeared inside the fortress. The others turned their eyes in their directions, and seemed awestruck. They made no movement either to flee or welcome them. The witcher didn't frown, used as he was to strange and nasty treatments from almost everyone walking the continent. He stopped the mare and patted her on the neck before dismounting, followed suit by the hooded woman. He silently put her in the right direction, leading her by the hand. She let go of his, and turned around. She could not see it, but he saw her take a deep breath. She was sniffing his scent as a memory._

"I guess... This is goodbye, _she began, hesitantly._

\- Hm.

\- I... I can't thank you enough for your help.

\- No need."

_There was an awkward silence. They knew they had to part, but neither of them wanted to. Not yet._

"I'm afraid I can't pay you for the service you've rendered me." _She said. Half out of embarrassment, half to prolong the moment, delay the one she'll have to say goodbye._

_He was about to say there was no need for payment, but then an idea occurred. He didn't know where it came from, but he couldn't resist._

"Actually, I think you can. If not with coin, with something else."

_She answered by a silent surprise, waiting for him to elaborate._

"There is a custom here, that I can lay claim on something that I don't know of.

\- … If you don't know what it is, how can you claim it?

\- That's why we call it the law of surprise. As for myself, I'd like to claim… What only you can give me."

_He had hesitated. But he wanted to try._

_She laughed a soft laugh._

"Of course it would happen." _She said, as if only for herself. __She lifted her head, and declared. _"Then you shall have it."

_What she did next, he definitely did not expect. She turned around and walked away, into the monastery._

_Ah._

_He had thought she would grant him a kiss, but her departure… What was he to understand? He was scratching his head, wondering what had just happened, when a young monk came to him, half trembling. He held out a square of folded fabric to Geralt. The witcher looked at him with a quizzical look. The monk gulped._

"M… My la… She said… She said to give you this… That this was your..." _another gulp _"Your payment."

_Geralt laid a hand on the deep blue velvet, and opened it. Inside was a single white feather. He took it in his hand, considered it, deeply puzzled, as the monk's eyes widened. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, closed it, gulped again, then said:_

"G… Good day sir witcher, m… May you have a nice journey."

_And with that, he ran away inside the monastery._

* * *

"Have you given him?

\- Y… Yes my… My lady…"_Stuttered the young monk, respectfully kneeling._"And I… I don't mean to be impertinent but… Such a present... To a witcher?

\- And what, pray tell me, is supposed to be wrong with witchers? This man has shown me great kindness, and has protected me from harm all along my journey.

\- B… B… But… He is… He is… The butcher of Blaviken!

\- What is Blaviken? Though I do not care at the moment. Rather tell me, what does he look like? _she asked eagerly._

\- My lady… He is tall… Burly… Long haired… Yellow eyes…

\- Is he handsome?

\- I… I don't know my lady..."

_Quick steps echoed in the hallway, as the high priest rushed toward them. He bowed deeply in front of the newcomer._

"My lady! Finally you're here! Safe and sound!"

_She smiled kindly._

"I am more than happy to be within these walls.

\- You have made a long journey."

_Finding herself finally safe, almost home, by the words he had pronounced, she lowered her hood, untied her blindfold, and slowly opened her eyes, finally letting the light reach her pupils. __She then unbuttoned her cloak, undid the travelling costume she was wearing on top of her dress, and finally stretched all of her limbs._

_The young monk dared to lift his head toward her and looked with awe. He was speechless. The older monks had told him about it, of course, but it was not the same to see it by oneself. The high priest seemed to radiate from happiness._

"My lady, if you please, I will now lead you to your resting place.

\- Thank you. I am most grateful. As you can see, and knew, I come here deeply injured, and with some burden.

\- The burden will be taken care of in good time, when you are better. For now, we will all ensure of your healing."

_With another bow, he led her away. The young monk had not dared move, and watched them disappear in the corridor._

* * *

**Don't worry, the story isn't over ^^ they are going to be apart, but not for long, I promise ^^ (oh, and of course smut is in the coming, the M rating isn't here because it's beautiful ^^)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello dear readers! I am deeply sorry for the delay, but I struggled pretty hard with the organisation of this chapter. But here it is, finally! Woohoo!**

**Also, I apologise for the sequence of tenses, my writing seems to have a mind of its own where that is concerned.**

* * *

Geralt doesn't even pant, his focus on the task right at hand. A graveir isn't a particularly difficult challenge, but he is currently fighting a handful of ones, and it's making things a bit harder. Three swings of the swords are far from enough to get rid of them, and they are not avaricious of their own blows, be it with their fists, their sharp nails, or their even sharper fangs. So he has to pay attention, stay focused. It might not be an important contract, but it will provide for him enough to feed himself for quite some days, maybe weeks. Plus the villagers really insisted to enlist his help. Truth, it was the case more often than not, and then, when the deed was done, they seemed eager to see him off. But at least for a moment he could feel wanted, and that was always a nice feeling. One that could not distract him right now, though, when he is trying to avoid getting more hurt than necessary.

* * *

It was a long process, she was well aware of the fact. But that piece of knowledge didn't make it any more enjoyable. She had fallen victim of a strong impatience, and it seemed that every minute of everyday was spent in sighing and grumbling. She couldn't manage to fill the void left by her expectancies with the contents of the books from the imposing library, full of rare books on subjetcs that were so foreign to her she would normally revel in their content. But she simply cannot focus. Even in this strange foreign place, where she is safe, welcome, and where her curiosity could be satiated, by books or other means, she cannot find in her any peace of mind that would enable to do so. So she paces, nervously, in her small room.

* * *

And this time indeed it was no different. He had come back from his fight against the vicious creatures covered in the contents of their bowels and with their heads as a proof, had collected his coin, and scurried away under the now disgusted looks on his "employers"' faces. No time for a bath. He was used to it, but it drew a sigh from him nonetheless. He had traveled sometime before finding the river he was now washing himself in. Better than nothing. As he was scrubbing his arms, his mind wandered toward a smile on luscious lips, one that was full of gratitude. There was a pang of nostalgia in that thought. He stopped for a moment, sighing a sigh that suprised him. He wondered what she might have been doing at that very moment. How long had it been? Weeks? A whole month? He wasn't sure. At least she was safe now.

* * *

A knock on the slim wooden door distracts her ever going nervosity. She welcomes the high priest in her room with a bow of her head and a smile that quite doesn't reach her eyes., while he bows respectfully in front of her. He seems embarrassed. She urges him to tell her what is wrong.

She isn't healing properly. Or rather, not as fast as she should. He is anxious not to upset her, but those are facts they cannot ignore if they are to worry about the consequences. She concedes, unhappily. The best solution would be for her to sleep through the whole recovery. She isn't very keen on the idea. She will try to put her mind at rest as best as she can. It is a trial, she will face it. She has to. He agrees to let her try. There is no bending her will anyway, he wouldn't dream of disrespecting her thus.

For he knows her. Unlike most of the monks in the monastery, he doesn't revere her only for what she is, but also for what she has done, what he has seen her do. He admires her for it. He knows her sorrow, the sacrifices she has made, the bitter tears she has wept. The people she has helped, the hope she has given them. And for all that, maybe more than for who she is, he respects her, worships her even. And he will help her, at the best of his abilities.

* * *

Another day, another hunt, another monster. This one has been difficult to eliminate, and the fight will leave a new scar. He sighs as he tends to the fresh slash on his forearm. Strangely, the beginning of a smile finds its way on his lips. He surprises himself by whistling softly. Definitely not one of his habit. When he comes to Roach, with the head of his kill, the mare turns her head to headbutt his chest and neighs softly. He considers the white feather she touched, the one he now wears on a lace around his neck, right under his witcher's medalion.

"Yeah, I miss her too."

As he rides, he chastises himself. He shouldn't worry about a memory. Maybe soon she'll fade away in the darkness of his mind. Most likely she has already forgotten about him. She seemed to have had quite on her plate, enough to keep her busy for maybe a long time. But he can't erase her completely, cannot compel himself to do it. For he knows there's something different. They had parted, said farewell, but she hasn't been snatched away from him forever by death, or resentment. She was kind. She was... Lovely. He has to concede it. And the world seemed a little brighter with such a creature walking on it. One day she'll recover from her injuries. One day she'll leave her monastery. One day, maybe, they'll meet again. It was strange to feel that small piece of warmth in his chest, but it was nurturing itself, and he didn't feel like chasing it. So he kept it. It was nice for a change, to have some hope.

* * *

So she has devoted herself to spend her time in a way that would quiet her mind. She does her best to meditate. She opens books. She finds information there. And she has to admit, one subject above all others captivates her. So she learns about the ways of the witchers. She asks questions. She almost shivers when she hears some of the answers. She asks them about the man who has lead her here. They tell her about Blaviken. She tries to reconcile both of them in her mind. It is, surprisingly, an easy task. The world has shown her, she knows first hand, everything is not as it seems. She is stubborn. She gives him the benefit of the doubt.

She wonders, sometimes, if she will see him again. Then she chastise herself. There are more urgent matters she should worry about. But there is something in her chest that she can't ignore. Something that nags her, almost constantly. She knows what it is. She doesn't dare to nurse it. But she makes a little room for it. Hope.

* * *

**Expect the next chapter very soon this time! Not yet the time for reunion, but it is coming very soon ^^**


	15. Chapter 15

_The rain has started to fall most heavily, and the horse riding has become already quite too uncomfortable for his liking, when Destiny apparently thinks he doesn't have enough, and Roach loses a horseshoe. A few swearings and the witcher dismounts the mare to lead her by her reins on the muddy road. He passes by a small farmhouse, and asks for the blacksmith. With a grunt and a wary look, the farmer gives him direction. Is it compassion? He finally doesn't let the stranger go away, offers him to come share a meal while waiting for the end of the rain._

"Ilda, he calls inside, we have a guest."

_A warm fire in the hearth of the fireplace, a hot bowl of stew, a nice jug of ale, it all feels comforting after days of riding through forests and by swamps. The farmer's wife smiles at him as she feeds her last born who can barely walk. But when she glances at his chest, she stops, dead in her tracks, and her eyes widen. She lifts her head to look at his face, as if she is searching for something in his eyes, and he can't understand her look. People, they generally look at him with fear, anger, disgust, but rarely with such a strange mix of… What is it exactly? Sorrow? Relief? He frowns._

_Night has fallen when he goes outside to check on his horse. The family has offered him a stay in their house for the night, which he has gratefully accepted. Kindness was rare enough toward him to be fully appreciated. He is brushing the mare when he hears the door of the stable open, and a few hurried footsteps coming in his direction. A hand lands on his forearm that makes him turn his head. The farmer's wife is looking at him with bright eyes._

"Tell me, please… Is it true? Is she here?"

_But he doesn't understand. Then she lifts her necklace for him to see. A small, white feather is enclosed in silver and she wears it as a locket, hidden under her clothes. He is taken aback, and it is a few seconds before he nods silently. She bursts into quiet tears._

"Oh may the gods be blessed! I thought I would never- How is she? I'm begging you, tell me how is my lady- my queen!

_Geralt tilts his head._

"Your queen?"

_She nods. But before she can elaborate there's a noise outside. The farmer's calling her. She throws a glance and a smile at the witcher, wipes her tears before scurrying away._

_He has to wait morning to know more. The farmer is already away in the field, and his wife, Ilda, has managed to put the baby to sleep in a small basket before she sits in front of the witcher, her arms crossed on the table._

"I apologise for yesterday, my emotions were too strong. I thought after leaving my homeland, I'd never hear of it again. Nor of my queen."

_He nods, waiting for her to elaborate. She is smiling, a joy mixed with sorrow. Her eyes are full of hope._

"Please give me news, Witcher! We're on the same side here, and I desperately need to hear that my beloved queen is well!

\- Before I give you an answer, I need to know more about what you know." _ He hesitates before adding._ "She was hiding. I can't… tell anything to the wrong person…"

_Ilda nods, understanding. She sighs. And she begins her tale, one he didn't know he was so eager to listen._

"I was born on the other side of the mountains. A vast land called Ashembra. Life was not so different than it is here, I guess. I helped my parents around the farm. Then this one day, I'll always remember… They were surrounding me, I was scared, alone, just a little girl, and they were knights, they were supposed to protect us. Not-" _She pursues her lips, shortly, before resuming._ "I just heard a few clashes of steel. There she was, this angel of mercy, wind in her hair, determination in her eyes. And she defeated them. All of them. Didn't kill them, but managed to… Scare them away. She took me on her horse and brought me back home to my parents. From then on I wanted nothing but to learn how to fight. And I did. Badly maybe. But I did. Then I took the road, tried my best to emulate her. Defending the weakest as she had done. And I learned more. She had been wandering for some time, a lone lady knight of sorts. They said she was the bastard daughter of queen Merowig, who had disowned her, no one knew exactly why. I finally crossed her path years later."

She paused to sip a bit of the tea she had fixed for them both.

"She hadn't changed a bit, hadn't seem to age a day. Her eyes were so full of kindness and courage. I begged her to let me fight at her side. And she did. We were a small company, trying our best to make this world a little better. She was our inspiration. Powerful, yet compassionate.

Then, one day… The men of the queen found her. It was awful. She protected us. As best as she could. Most of us went out of it uninjured. But my lady… They took her away. She disappeared for a few months. We tried our best to find her. And one of us managed. Elisheva. She was a great warrior, had been by my lady's side for a long time. She came back with her. My lady was in such a state… She never mentioned what had happened to her, and neither did Elisheva. But she looked… Exhausted, and her eyes… There was something dead inside. And Elisheva, there was this… Determined anger on her lips. But they never said a word. We knew why. They didn't want to upset us. Which only got us to imagine the worst.

But she never said a word against the queen, never betrayed any resentment. Only a fierce resolution. But Merowig was never satisfied. She wanted to destroy her, and would not relent till she had done so. And, strangely, she was joined in her hatred by a foreign prince. And it looked like they would spare nothing on their way to reach and eliminate her.

The people got tired. They had, on the one hand, this mad queen and king, burning villages, killing people, in their desire to quench some thirst for destruction no one understood,and on the other this brave, righteous lady, who was only fighting for the dignity of the weakest. So the uprising started. They tried their best to depose Merowig, put my lady in her place. She protested, at first. But the idea was anchored in everybody's hearts, and it became her title. Queen over the Ashembra by the will of its people.

The repression was atrocious, to say the least. I saw my lady, now my queen, weep many tears in mourning. But we managed. We survived. No matter how many burnings and killings, we were winning territory every day. It was no more a rebellion, but a full war. The people wanted to be free of what they considered tyranny, now.

I think she saw the toll it was taking on me. She took me aside one day, said gentle words of a foreign, far away land. She said she wanted me to be happy, thanked me for my service by her side, but said it was time for me to move on. I shed bitter tears, but I knew she was right. I had to go away.

So I went, came to the Continent, found myself happy in marriage and motherhood. But I haven't heard of my queen ever since.

And when I saw that feather of white on your chest, her sign, the one only us would wear, that only she could give, I knew you had met her path, and now please Witcher, tell me how she is."

_It has been a long tale, to say the least. A lot of information to process. But Geralt cannot deny the poor woman any longer._

"I'm afraid she has been injured, badly. She, uh… Her back is… Crooked. And… She is blind now." _He has braced himself for the tears he knew would come in reaction, but it doesn't make it any less uncomfortable. He feels like he needs to reassure her._ "But she was on her way to healing. In, er… A monastery. I escorted her there. I'm sure they are taking care of her now." _Ilda nods through her tears._

"I just-I just hoped she would- Would be spared any more sorrows. My poor lady. She has suffered so much already! But I guess it is not... meant to be."

The woman weeps quietly for a moment, while Geralt is considering her with curious eyes. She has said to have been a little girl when she has met Sara. But- she looked at least ten years older thant the young lady he has left at the door of the monastery.


	16. Chapter 16

**So, last chapter, we learned a bit more about our fierce heroin, what are we going to discover today? Well quite a lot ^^ Remember, reviews make your author happy.**

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_How long has it been, when she is finally deemed ready to go back where she belongs? Months? Years? She tries not to consider the weight of time, and to rather focus on the journey back home. This time again, it will be long. But she is ready. She feels like her old self again, she has let go of her burden, all of which is now being attended to by the monks. "They" will join her as soon as they are able to do so. The high priest has bid her goodbye, hoping to see her not too soon has he said, half-laughing, half-serious. He has given her the best horse he could find, a dapple grey stallion, fast as the wind he has been told, and she is thankful for everything he and the monastery have done for her. He humbly asks for her blessing before they part and she gladly gives it. She mounts on the horse to whom she has already taken a liking. The dark wool of her cloak covers her shoulders and prevents her from the cold she will have to brave. And now, she only has to ride, as fast as she can, toward the Southeast, toward that place she still calls home._

_A certain memory of her journey here has been haunting her all along, and it is all she can do not to try and look for him as well. She cannot deny, she wants to see him, really see him, and touch him. She wants to know more. He has been another anchor during those months of having to be patient while nothing much happened. He has given her hope, by the mere existence of his memory, by the simple fact that he has gone through her life, and she can't felt but think they are linked somehow. The feather she has given him, it has marked him as one of her own, and she doesn't want to ignore the fact. But there is no time. No time for such silliness, she has much more to worry about now. Maybe one day they'll meet again. Maybe they won't and he'll remain a fond memory. But now is time for going back to Ashembra._

_So with a little pressing of her heels in the stallion's flank, she starts riding, back through the forest that has lead her here._

* * *

_It was supposed to be a simple contract. Easy. A stupid kikimora, in a stupid swamp. Nothing unusual. So why for fuck's sake has it come that he got himself so injured in the fight? His armor was torn, shredded, his hands full of his own blood from the cuts he got there, and there was a not-so-nice hole gaping in his thigh, through which one the kikimora claw was strongly embed. He wasn't slow, he was focused, but he can't grasp what has gone wrong. Maybe the beast was just too strong this time. Or maybe he has grown over confident. He has noticed, since some time. He's faster. Stronger. He heals better. He doesn't know exactly when it started. Or rather he does know, and prefers to ignore it. Because surely it's just a coincidence. Still he curses under the pain and the anger while carrying part of his kill as proof he has gotten his part of the contract. He most likely won't be able to ride back to the village, so he starts walking, limping. The healing potions he has drunk were not enough yet, only enabled him to walk slowly without too much pain. He lets out a new curse._

_He does not spot them immediately. He is trying very hard not to pass out from the pain and keep walking, and it is taking most of his energy, and his attention. So, sooner than it should have, he finds himself surrounded. Five men, maybe six. The kind that usually sneer at him in taverns, but is too drunk to do much. He doesn't so much as glance at them. His face is hard. Usually enough a sign to dissuade many. But not them. Not today. They laugh. One of them shoves him against Roach._

"Hey, guys, nice time for a witcher, ain't it?"

_The laughs that answer him are raucous._

"'Tis a nice prize you have here. But how good of a prize would _your_ head be?"

_He has stopped walking. He won't have much of a choice, and he will have to fight back. But he's in pain. The first fist that punches his gut has him falling on his knees, wincing, eliciting more laughter from his assaillants. He braces himself for what is sure to follow, wondering if that is how he will end, when a ringing voice is heard._

"Why don't you take someone your size?"

_He has the force to turn his head, but feels he must hallucinate already, because the voice belongs to a young woman riding a grey horse, and even him can't see how she hopes to even half a dozen brawny men determined to fuck a witcher up for good. Her intervention is welcomed by their laughter._

"How about once we're done with him, we do _take you_ in turn?"

_She dismounts, and they all can see how smaller than them she is. She comes forward, unarmed, straight, and retorts._

"I give you one last chance to flee before you face the consequences of what you've done, and intend to do."

_There is a calm but strong determination in her voice that Geralt doesn't miss. A voice he does recognise. There is a spark of joy and terror altogether in his chest, because he knows perfectly well what will ensue, and he does'nt want that to happen, doesn't want to see her..._

_He feels a sudden dampness on his forehead. One of the men has spat on him, enticing a new roar of laughter from his friends._

"Kusanagi's flame!" _He hears her yell, and there is a blazing fire at her side, a long line of dancing reds and yellows, that she _holds_ with her hand, and then__ the silence of the sword being unsheathed from the flames. She holds the long blade by her side, and there is a suprised, somewhat fearful silence._

"Run." _She tells them with the calmness that must reign in the middle of a hurricane, because when one of them angrily hurls himself at her she only takes a a few strides, but she is fast, so fast in fact that she is standing near him as he hears the men howling in pain and horror at the blood coming out of their bodies. Neither of them is dead, but they are all badly wounded, their hands in particular, and there is so much blood coming from the face of the one who spat on him that he understands she has aimed for his mouth._

_This time, when she tells them, with the same, calm, cold, frightening voice, to run, they obey, __they do in fact run off, __howling__._

_She sheathes her sword in the flames by her side and it disappears before she kneels beside the witcher._

"Sir? Can you get up?"

_And he can't believe the odds. True, it might have something to do with the fact that he has lately been haunting the forest of the North, so as to, maybe, by chance, hear aboud the hunchback bard lady, but to think she is here, by his side, and that she has most likely saved his life..._

"Sara..."

_Hi voice is coarse from the blow he has received, and maybe from the exhaustion of fighting a giant spider from hell._

"How do you know my name?" _She asks in a whisper._

"It's me- Ah... Geralt" _He answers in puffs as he struggles to breath. She opens wide eyes, and he thinks it's the first time he gets to see them open, by what miracle, and oh gods he could get lost forever in those dark pools. She is even more beautiful, and how dares she, how dares she be so much, so close, he can smell her, but he is too weak, too weak to touch her, and there is a fire, roaring now in his chest, and he knows exactly what it is, but now definitely isn't the right moment. But she reaches for his cheek, as if to check if he's is real, __and the touch is heavenly. He closes his eyes and she yelps, worried he might faint._

"Geralt! Yes, it's you, but come on! Stay with me!"

_He opens them back with a smile._

"I, uh... I might need some help..."

* * *

_He feels a bit dizzy, even as he is lying on the ground, and he has trouble breathing. Everything hurts. But there is this cool hand on his forehead and the sensation makes him a little calmer. This strange impression that everything is going to be alright. The face above him has concern in her eyes, and something else, he can't decipher in his current state. And maybe in his usual state it wouldn't be any better._

"You've taken quite a beating, and I refuse to believe it was all from those idiots.

\- Uh... Hunting gone bad.

\- I see." _She nods._"I can ease the pain, heal you a bit. But not completely. You'll feel better, and we'll manage to get you a proper treatment afterwards. Does that suit you?"

_Well he's not going to complain about any help he can get! He nods silently. She closes her eyes, keeps her hand on his forehead, while the other roams above him. Slowly, a blue light spreads around him, coming from her hand, following the path she's tracing, twirling around, and it feels like it is taking the pain away. His breath is coming back, and the dizziness is fading. His medallion hums almost imperceptibly._

"Close your eyes. Do not look." _She demands. But this simple request gives him all the more want to keep looking at her, quite intensely. And he sees. The blue light goes back to her, inside her, drawing thin __blue glowing lines under her skin, as small, ugly cuts appear on her hand, disappearing almost immediately. She doesn't flinch though, nothing in her demeanor betrays anything, but he understands. She's taking away his pain, his injuries, absorbing them. Living them. A transfer. He tries to stir, as panic starts to rise in his chest._

"Shhh. Don't move, stay still. You are going to hurt yourself worse."

_He feels her hand stroking his forehead gently, and the world becomes very blurry and so peaceful, as he slips out of consciousness._

* * *

_She doesn't feel so bad. She has dislodged the claw stuck in his leg, taken a part of that injury as well. Thanfully she is healthy enough to recover quickly, even if it stings a little. Her trouser leg is burned, so she has tied a scrap of fabric around it. It will have to do for now. At least her "friend" is better, will be better. She just looks at him, now, while he seems to sleep peacefully. But her furrowed brows are every indication of her displeasure. Why did no one feel the need to warn her he had white hair?_

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**Toss a review to your writer, oh valley of plenty!**


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm glad to be able to report that, at the rythm this is going, we can hope to enjoy... Let's say... Further, more interesting development in two chapters. **

**Smut. I mean the smut. Brace yourselves. It is coming. Now on with the story.**

_He is awaken by the heat of the sun rays on his face, and he struggles a bit to open his eyes. A strange feeling of laziness he is not used to. But he is surprised to find himself without the headache he should have been having. Nor is he sore in any way. He stirs and sits in his bedroll, massaging his back muscles. Nothing. Nothing is painful. He checks his leg for any trace of the hole the monster's claw had left, but apart from his torn pant leg, there is nothing. A mere bruise maybe. And there is no one. No one around. No small, fierce, singing lady. And no noise either, apart from those of the forest. But tied to a tree, he can see two horses. His beloved Roach, and a beautiful dapple grey one, both quietly munching the grass around them. But still no human soul in sight. He gets up, starts looking for her. Her scent. He has already noticed, she has a distinct scent. Foreign. Sweet. Flowery. He walks following the invisible trail she left behind her. And there he finds her._

_The small stream flows quietly around her, and every wavelet comes licking at her skin. Her long wet hair covers most of her back. Taunt. Straight. _Straight. _She was crooked the last time he has seen her. The damp golden brown mass shines in the sun, pointing a dangerous, enticing, far too much appealing trail. He sees her moving and it's everything. Her skin glistens. Everything about her is grace and beauty. He finds himself rooted on the spot. He just can't move, and he can barely breath. She has denied him that sight the first time they met. She said it was dangerous. It is. He is trapped. But he has to move away, to shake himself from his staring at her, less she notices him and takes offense. And she would be so right to do so. Shame and guilt finally jolt him and he retreats to the camp._

_When she comes back he tries not to spot the few wet stains on her clothes that would enable him to see more than he should. Sitting on a log, he greets her with a smile. She answers with a nod._

"I see you are well." _She states coldly. _"I doubt not that you shall find the path alone to where you were heading." _She doesn't even stops near him, goes straight to her horse, and he frowns in confusion. He gets up and follows her._

"Yes, I am better. Thanks to you, _he tries._

\- Don't thank me, _she answers without so much as looking at him. _I'd have done the same for absolutely anyone." _And he doesn't miss her slight flinch as soon as the words are spoken.__ When he gets at her height, she doesn't turn her head. Doesn't acknowledge him. Keeps herself busy with untying the horse rein. What the hell?_

"Well if you'll excuse me, I still have a long journey ahead, and you seem to have no more need of me. So I'll take my leave."

_Something like panic wells up in his chest. He has just gotten her back. He can't lose her already. He puts a halting hand on hers, which she tries to withdraw, and he doesn't dare to hold her against her will, but she finally looks at him. It's unmistakable. There's anger in her eyes. In her scent. What can he possibly have done to elicit such a feeling?_

"Sara... Won't you talk to me?

\- I've talked to you.

\- We haven't seen each other in ages! _He growls, frustrated. _Can't we at least catch up?"

_She looks at him, a piercing, furious stare._

"There's nothing to catch up on. Goodbye."

_He feels anger rise in company to panic. His tone is accusing, as he sees very few plausible explanations to her change in behaviour._

"Oh is the company of the _Butcher of Blaviken_ such a nuisance, now?"

_She answers with a snort._

"What does that have to do with anything?

\- I don't know, you tell me!

\- Once more, there's nothing to tell."

_The wince is barely there, but he sees it. What the fucking hell is happening?_

"I thought we were... Friends... Of sorts.

\- You thought wrong. _Another wince._

\- Oh I see, I'm not worthy of a queen I guess" _He says with a voice heavy with sarcasm, but the sentence is not yet dead on his lips that she whips around and he finds himself with the tip of a dagger against his throat. Anger has been replaced by panic- no, sheer terror in her eyes. He takes a step back but __the blade follows__._

"Who told you about that? _She asks__ in a quavering voice._

_That is definitely not the reaction he expected. He holds his hand in a pacifying gesture._

"I- I met Ilda."

_Her eyes widen._

"You- Ilda- You met her..."

_He nods slowly, very much aware of the sharp threat to his Adam's apple._

"How?

\- Roach had lost a horseshoe. It was raining, the road was muddy. The first house I met was hers. She saw the feather, she showed me hers." _He says quickly, understanding the more he'll be clear, sincere in his explanation, the more chances she'll believe him._

_He sees her quiver. She looks at him with almost a frightening intensity. Then she slowly withdraws the menacing blade from his throat. Her voice is a mere whisper when she asks:_

"How... How is she?

\- She's happy. She is married. Got children.

\- ... She's happy?" _She repeats questionningly in a small voice, full of hope. He nods in acquiescence. A strange, crooked smile draws itself on her lips._

"Do you know what that means, Geralt?" _She asks, and there's a hint of relief in her voice. He shakes his head. He doesn't understand anything that is happening, but at least she is not mad at him anymore, and she even seems a bit... Happy herself?_

"It means, s_he explains as she wipes away the few tears that have escaped her eyes, _that not every single person I approach is going to die alone, miserable, and in dire pain. It means not every single thing I touch is doomed to destruction."

_He feels a pang of sadness in his heart, but he also hears what she doesn't say. It means she can hope. He takes a dare and speaks up._

"Ilda told me... Your story.

\- ... No one could know where she is, nor that she crossed the mountains. I made sure of it. So it means..." _She nods, __as if to herself. _"... You're not one of hers."

_One of hers... One of whom? He has absolutely no clue as to whom she means, but at least she doesn't seem to see him as an enemy anymore._

"What did she tell you?"

_He hesitates a bit before answering._

"That you were the bastard daughter of a powerful queen who now wanted you dead. That the people had made you queen in her stead."

_She smirks, and lifts a hand to his face, taking a lock of his hair through her delicate fingers._

"And in all that, she forgot to mention the one thing, that should have been so obvious." _Temptation is strong as she plays with the __strand, but he resists the urge to kiss her. She had the wrong end of a dagger at his throat not two minutes ago. _"She failed to tell you that the only other person we crossed path with that has hair of such white is the very queen that has vowed to end me."

_His blood turns cold. Now he understands. That is why her behaviour has changed. She hadn't seen him before. She didn't know he had white hair, to which she equalled to a very real threat. 'One of hers'. She had thought he was another weapon sent to harm her, one of Merowig's men._

"No! No, I- I would never hurt you!" _He almost pleads. But there is a curl of irony in her smile, and sadness in her eyes._

"Oh, dear, don't you think it's what they all said?"

_And he feels a rise of anger at everything her words say. The betrayals. The defiance she has had to build, again and again. The many attempts against her life, and he wonders how many times already she has escaped death. Or maybe worse. Ilda's words replay in his head. 'They took her away... She came back with her... My lady was in such a state... She never mentionned what had happened to her... Her eyes... There was something dead inside...' And he feels like if he could just cross the Continent and find himself on the other side of the mountains he would mercilessly hunt and destroy everyone who has hurt her._

_But her hand slides gently on his cheek._

"But it's alright. I believe you." _She smiles. _"And I owe you an apology. For the dagger. I am sorry. But... I have to be cautious." _He nods, understanding._

"So it's true? You are a queen?

\- That depends on the weight you give to the will of a people compared to that of a birth right. So, in a way, yes, I am a queen.

\- Sara of Ashembra?"

_She smiles gently._

"Of the Schillae. _Her smile broadens at his frowning confusion. _That's the name I go by. You are Geralt of Rivia, from what I have been told. I am Sara of the Schillae. Queen over the Ashembra by the will of its people, and the acceptance of the fairy people. Do not forget that part, they don't like it."

_It is his turn to smile as he remembers, rather fondly, the little blobs of light hovering over her as she sang._

"Anyway, no matter how pleasant this whole thing is, it is true that I still have a long way to go. You will be fine, won't you?" _She asks with concern. But he feels a pang of panic at the idea of her leaving him, again. He has f__ou__nd her. Or she has f__ou__nd him. It doesn't matter, she is there, by his side, and he knows he never wants her to leave him again. He gra__bs__ her hand__._

"Stay."

_She blinks, surprised._

"Stay with me. Stay here, on this side of the mountains. No one will come for you here. No one will hunt you. No one will hurt you. I promise."

_He doesn't even know what he is saying, the words that come out of his mouth are not thought over, but he knows for certain that every single one of them is true._

_She looks at him, always with the same intensity, as if she is satisfying some kind of hunger with her eyes, as if she is making up for all the time they have spent together and she couldn't look at him. He feels her hand on his cheek, her thumb strokes him softly and he is going to be damned if it is not the most marvelous feeling he has ever felt._

"I can't." _She says in a whisper._

"Why?

\- I have left people on the other side. They count on me. They need me. I cannot abandon them.

\- But here you are safe. With me you are safe!" _He counters, and it's not a lie, because there are monsters, and the world hates him, but whoever wants to harm her won't manage to reach her, and he can guarantee that, can guarantee that they won't, ever, that he will protect her against them._

"But they are not. They are not safe. If I do not come back, if I do not come to rescue them, they are not safe. I have to go." _She pulls him against her in a desperate move, presses her forehead against his. _"I can't stay." _And it is all too much, his heart is full with feelings, and he doesn't like it, but never did anything feel more right than to have her against him__. His arms __circle__ her __waist, he lowers his head slowly, just to give her a chance to deny him the kiss he has longed for for so long. She raises her head, comes to meet him halfway, and it feels like an explosion of happiness and hunger when their lips finally touch._

**Not next chapter, but the one after. Promise. I'm already working on it, as I can't wait to have it written ^^**


	18. Chapter 18

**Dear Readers, I am ever so sorry for the delay, but I kept rewriting this scene again and again, because I wasn't satisfied with it. Finally, I decided that done was better than perfect, and I hope you'll enjoy. Beware, the Big Secret is finally revealed! You'll not, at last, what is our heroin! And we can only guess what toll it's going to take on our beloved Witcher! What do you think? Give me your best guesses in the reviews ^^**

* * *

Oh_ how she has longed for his lips, and it's everything she has dreamt of._

_No._

_It is better._

_His lips are better, his taste is better, the warmth she feels in his arms is better, it is like nothing in the world exist anymore, like she is… Home. Safe. In his arms she feels safe. She relishes that feeling knowing it won't last._

_Because she can't let it last. She can't deceive him. She has no right, even if he is wearing her favour. He doesn't know. What it entices, what she truly is, he doesn't know. And she has no right to take anymore from him._

_She pushes him away, gently but firmly. Her eyes closed, her face flush, her scent of lust and shame mixed. She looks so sweet! She looks like a delicious fruit, ripe, and he chastises himself for all the dirty thoughts that can't help but cross his mind at this moment._

"No. No, _she says, soft but firm. _I can't do that to you."

_His mind struggle to register the fact that she is rejecting him, but her words… Is she trying to protect him? From… What exactly?_

_She lifts her head, dives deep into his eyes with that desperate, hungry look._

"Why do you have to be so wonderful?" _She asks, her voice full of longing and despair, and he thinks he must have been enchanted, because no one has ever called him wonderful. This has to be a dream. A most lovely, magnificent dream._

_She takes a few steps back and he lets her go. He wants to keep her against him, to tell her everything will be alright, that he is strong, that she doesn't have to fear whatever it is that frightens her so, that he can take it all, but it's not what she seem to want at the moment, so he lets her go. As painful as it is._

"I can't— lie to you. Manipulate you into doing something with…

\- You think you are manipulating me?

\- Geralt, you— you don't know me. You don't know— I— I am not what I seem."

_What? Lovely? Extraordinary? Fierce and brave? Enough to cross a whole continent with a blindfold on?_

_He waits for her to elaborate. She doesn't. He reaches for her and she lets him grab her arm gently._

"I am not what I seem. And if I let you… If—if I let myself… It would be treachery. I would be deceiving you. You would be… _She gulps, the effort is visible when she tries to explain. _I'm hiding something from you. Something important. And it is wrong to let you...

\- Then tell me."

_But she shakes her head, and there is so much, so much sadness in her eyes._

"I can't…"

_She considers him, silently for a moment. Then she starts turning around._

"Goodbye Geralt."

_But he doesn't let her go this time. He doesn't want it to be over before it even started, he doesn't want to lose her, and why does everything have to be an emotional upheaval every single damn minute he spends with her?_

"I'm coming with you!"

_She halts, stares at him incredulously._

"Why would you do that? Don't you understand? It's dangerous!

\- Well, _he retorts, slightly annoyed, _I'm not exactly a weak maiden, and I think I can handle quite a lot.

_She raises an eyebrow._

"Many maidens would surprise you, in the handling department. But no, you are not coming. I am not putting you at risk, as much as I crave for your presence by my side."

_He tries very hard not to linger on the words she has just said, and focuses on convincing her._

"Then at least let me take you to the border.

\- I know the way.

\- Damnit! Can I for a moment express a will without you rejecting me?"

_She feels dizzy a moment as it seems the same scene from the outward journey is playing here once again. They have already been there. They have already done that. And she feels defeated and tired._

"Fine, _she sighs, _I am not going to fight you anymore. But be warned that whatever you are trying to accomplish is very dangerous, and extremely stupid."

_He grunts in answer, and starts untying Roach's reins._

_They have to stop at the village first, the one that contracted him to get rid of the monster whose head he is carrying by his saddle. He is quick to collect his payment before they leave, and at first they don't exchange many words. She is a bit mad at him that he would disregard her warnings, and at her that she would yield so easily to his demand. And in the same fashion, he is mad at her that she would be so difficult to convince, and so uselessly mysterious, and at himself for not doing the only reasonable thing and let her be. But here they are, in each other's company, for who knows how long, because she is the one leading the way, and it's a strange thing for him to simply follow._

_When they stop for the night she shows a care for her horse that he has to admit he finds endearing. She talks to him in a soft, quiet voice while she grooms him, sometimes pressing her forehead against his in silence, as if to exchange thoughts with the stallion by telepathy. He learns his name is Jolly, and she seems as fond of the beast as he is of his own mare. But she has warned the beautiful dapple grey horse against any inappropriate behaviour toward Roach, and Geralt must admit he is grateful, though amused, but the horse seems to obey his mistress quite well._

_But it only takes a few days, three at the most, before everything goes downhill. He should have known better than to have let her lead the way through the swamp. It's silent at first, but he can hear it creeping close to them. The attack comes from above. He unsheathes his sword, she invocates hers. But it is not the same as last time. In the deafening noise of the monster's shrieks he can only make out something that sounds like bird before an explosion of lightenings materializes by her side, and she unsheathes her weapon from the storm as she had done so from the flames last time. He realises he never asked about the flames that she manipulates as if it were nothing. He is not unfamiliar with magic, but this is taking the game to a whole new level, and he has to admit he's impressed. Or would be, if he had the leisure to focus on anything but the fight at hand. The cockatrice doesn't fail to react to the storm that has burst at her side, but it is trying its best to reach for her when they disappear. Shrieking, as if trying to impress them, the monster swipes its tail a few times toward them before landing and attacking them more aggressively. Geralt never stops hitting with his silver blade, while she tries to attract its attention in a dangerous game of bait. It's a team work, in which both of them is efficient, but the beast is rather aggressive, and it is fast. Too fast._

_One whip of the tail, Geralt falls on his back, and the monster lifts its appendage to pierce through the witcher, and she sees it, she sees the movement of the tail, as much as the movement of the clawed wing, and she knows she has to make a choice, fast, it's him or her, she can save only one right now, but is it really a choice? She knows the consequences, she knows them perfectly well, but she cannot let him die. So she casts her magic shield, protecting him fully, bracing herself for the blow, and the beast doesn't disappoint. It's painful, it's awful, she feels like dying. She is dying. And it's too late. It's over. Everything is over._

_He can only watch in horror as it happens. The tail was falling toward him, but something blue sparks before it touches him, he doesn't understand, but he sees the claws as they pierce through her tender flesh. She coughs blood. So much blood. It's everywhere. He feels his eyes burn and his voice grow coarse from yelling. But the beast… The beast shrieks, as if in pain, in terrible pain, it shrieks and shrinks, in total agony._

_He jumps on his feet and rushes toward her, yelling for her. She is bent in two, holding herself, her eyes wide in horror and pain. He understands far too well what she has done, and he would rather she hadn't, in that moment he'd give back his life to save hers. He falls to his knees by her side and reaches for her, trembling. But as soon as he touches her, she flinches, and back away._

"Go… Away…" _He hears her wheezing._

"No !

\- For… Once… Do as… I tell you…"

_He tries to catch her as she falls to the floor, but she pushes him away with a force he didn't imagine she'd have, and he lands on his rear._

"Go… AWAY!" _She yells._

_But he cannot move, as he takes in her whole appearance. There is blood. A lot of blood. But it's black on the ground. Her clothes seem to burn with every drop that touch them, to dissolve with the faintest smoke._

"Go away… Please…" _She begs, her whole body trembling, as she's struggling. But he can't. And he sees._

_Suddenly, there is a light, golden, bright, warm, hot, scalding. She radiates. His medallion hums, chants, and it feels… it feels good, like comfort. Like home. Like happiness. The light recedes and there is a tearing sound. The back of her shirt is ripped as feathers appear, attached to… _

'I was just a little girl… She hadn't changed a bit.' _He remembers Ilda saying._

_The whitest of wings unfurl majestuously behind her, flapping slightly, slowly._

'I want what only you can give me.' _She had indeed._

_And the puzzle finally solves itself before his eyes._

'There she was, an angel of mercy.'

_Her back, it had never been crooked. It was…_

'An angel of mercy.'

'An angel.'

_An angel._

_She is an angel._

_And she lifts her face full of pain and sorrow, looking at him as he sees her injuries heal themselves slowly._

"Now you know, _she whispers with despair, _and I can't protect you anymore."


	19. Chapter 19

**I cannot believe it has taken me this long to update! I hope you can all accept my deepest apologies, I was stuck in some kind of a writer's block for the very end of this chapter, and I only managed to overcome it this very morning! I shall do my best to be more regular in the near future.**

**Strangely, I have almost every single part of this story already planned in my head to the very end. So don't worry, I will not leave you in the middle of it ^^ But it might take a bit longer at times :s Sorry u_u'**

**Anyway, here it is, and thank you for your patience ^^'**

* * *

Once again, Geralt wonders how, in the big lottery of talents, he has got the one to put himself in such perfect messes. First, a princess he has to kill. Then, a sorceress to whom he has has the delightful idea to magically bind himself. And now… This. A foreign queen. And an angel. A fucking angel. He could swear someone, somewhere, in the gods realm, is mocking him, and laughing extra loud.

And he knows he only has himself to blame. She has wanted nothing from him from the very beginning. Every time he has offered his help, she has rejected it, pushed him away, as much as she could. But he wouldn't listen. No. The big witcher was almighty, couldn't take no for an answer from an apparent damsel in distress. Always the fucking white knight. Won't he ever learn?

And now, what is he to do? How does an angel qualify, in his line of work? She's not exactly a monster. She has helped him fight some. She didn't harm anyone. Not to his knowledge. She has healed him. She has protected him. She has… For fuck's sake, she has sacrificed herself for him!

Or has she? She's not exactly dead. She still has a pulse, and even if she has lost a lot of blood, her injuries seem to have already healed, even if she is now inconscious. One could swear she is only sleeping. So she didn't exactly give her life to save his.

And as soon as this train of thought comes to his mind, he loathes himself for daring to even think it. She might not have risked death, but the pain was here. She took a blow, and a really bad one. He has seen her, gasping for breath, as the blood was most likely filling her lungs. And still, she was trying to protect him, from a knowledge she deemed too dangerous for him. But he was no fucking damsel in distress! He sighed, feeling stupid. She was treating him just as he was treating her. They were both doing this stupid dance of trying to protect the other against whatever danger they thought they knew better.

She has collapsed on the floor after her… transformation of sorts, and he has carried her in his arms to a safer spot in the forest. She has wanted to hide her true nature at all cost, only revealing herself when he has been in danger, the least he could do was to preserve her from the unwanted attention of nosy villagers. He has laid her carefully on the ground and set camp, building a fire to warm the both of them. She has felt ice cold in his arms, and she is pale, so pale. There, by the firelight, she seems deadly peaceful. He can't help but to check for her pulse every so often, to reassure himself that she is still alive. And he can't stop marveling at the two feathery appendages sticking from her back. He has laid her on her back, but he worries now that it might be incomfortable. What does he know to this kind of situation? Despite the common belief, he is no demon, has no set of black wings in the back, and doesn't know how it feels to sleep on it.

She doesn't make the smallest movement, but there is a shiver on her skin. Goosbumps. He can't do anything for her, only wait until she wakes up, but he'll be damned if he lets her get cold. So he grabs a blanket, lays by her side, grabs her in his arms, and puts the blanket around them both. It is a strange sensation, for he has dreamed of holding her like this, against him, but in all of his fantasy, she was not… In that state. She doesn't respond to his touch, and he oddly remembers some fairy tale about a princess on a the verge of death brought back by sincere affection. Well, he has only that to offer. Sleep claims him, and he rests strangely, an angel in his arms.

It's not the ray of the morning sun that wakes her up. Nor the unfamiliar scent. It's the stupid chirping of a far too happy bird. She grumbles. The first sensation is a splitting headache. More grumbling. She calls for her companion.

"Eli… Eli…" It's a very unhappy groan.

He has been awake for some time, now, contemplating her sleeping form from behind, and he would like to rejoice at the sound of her voice, a good sign that she has regained consciousness, but she is calling someone it seems, and he has no idea who that is, or what to do. He only has time to back away slightly when the left wing flaps in the air.

"Eli, my head hurts! Ugh! Did I die again?"

There is a heavy load of annoyance as she shuffles a bit.

"Must have been bad. Sorry. Promise to be more careful." She yawns. The wing goes quiet, folding back neatly behind her back.

"I don't want to run today, she says in a sleepy voice. Let's not. Let's stay here. Maybe they forgot about my whole existence overnight. Maybe we're safe."

She grumbles soundly, pulling the blanket tighter on her shoulder.

"I had the weirdest dream. We lost a battle. You were all gone. Half of you dead. I had to cross the mountains."

There is a moment of silence, which the bird takes as a cue to trill. More grumbling.

"Stupid bird. Stupid sun. I'm a princess. I should be allowed to sleep in."

She sighs, and he doesn't dare move, at a loss for what to do, much more for what to say.

"There was a man. In my dream. He was… Kind. He felt safe. Like home you know? But he had white hair. It was so strange…"

Silence answers her.

"Anyway. Better get up. Ugh. No. I'm going to throw up. Bring me some flowers. Please. No. Don't." She shifts, and comes snuggling against him. There are two white wings against his chest, and a nice, firm rump against his…

"Don't go anywhere. Cuddle with me. I need a hug."

She needs a hug! She's asking for a hug, thinking he is somebody he isn't, while rubbing her lovely ass against his length! Everything is wrong at this very moment, from the hurt he feels in his chest to the erection he starts feeling in his pants, and it only goes worst when she reaches behind her and pats the air. She finds his hand and grabs it, pulling gently until he is indeed cuddling her, and he can all but hear again every single thing in the world laughing at the misery he is in, cuddling the loveliest woman he has met in a long time, who just so happen to not be human, and thinks he is somebody else. And he should say something, but the words are stuck in his throat.

It only takes a moment, though, barely the chirp of a bird, before she jumps in the bedroll, sitting, looking at him with eyes wide as saucers, her mouth hanging open, and he sits up, facing her, feeling once again he should speak, but not finding anything adequate.

But before he can muster any word, she bends double, holding her head, and she swears it's going to explode. She moans in pain, loudly.

"Geralt… I— I'm sorry but— Flowers! Bring me flowers. Quick. Please!"

Actions are definitely more his thing than words, and he gets up, hurrying, picking any flower he can put his hand on, and brings back some kind of a monstrous bouquet. He has no idea what she's going to do with it, but she's in pain, and asking for flowers, so that's all that matters. He holds it to her, feeling a bit stupid for a moment, like he's offering a token of affection to his sweetheart, but she mumbles her thanks and reaches for some daisy, that she brings to her mouth and— chews on it. Flower after flower disappear as she greedily eats them, and he can only watch, incredulous. When she grabs an aconit he feels stupid for having picked those ones, and lifts a hand to her.

"This one is poisonous! He tries to warn.

\- I'm immune." She answers, munching.

Soon, the bouquet has disappeared altogether, and she seems better, definitely. Less pain obviously. But she is still very pale.

"Anything else I can do?" He asks, tentatively. She nods, and crawls closer to him.

"Hold me."

He has absolutely no clue as to how this is going to help, but once again, she seems to know what she's doing. So he opens his arms for her, and presses her against him, holding her tight, as she takes refuge in his arms, her arms around his neck. She remains there, silent, for a moment, but slowly the colours come back to her face.

"Thank you." She mutters. He doesn't know what to answer. She shifts in his arms, and he releases his grip, until deep brown eyes are staring back at his.

"I owe you some explanation." She says, sheepishly, and he nods. He would lie if he pretended he didn't feel like his whole world has gone into a whirlwind since the very moment he has set eyes on her, and he's starting to be quite annoyed at not understanding a gods damn thing about it all. But the first question that blurts out of his mouth before he can even think about it, and consider how inappropriate it might be, is:

"Who's Eli?"

She smiles, fondly.

"She is my closest friend. We generally travel together, and we fight together. I'm ashamed to have to confess that she has been holding me together for longer than I can remember."

Eli… Elisheva. Now he remembers. Ilda mentionned her name. She is the one who managed to find her when…

"And what does that make you?" He asks, pointing at her wings. "An angel?

She nods, and gives a shrug. The wings vanish in a golden swirl.

\- Half of it actually. My mother was human.

\- Merowig?

She frowns, and he sees her tense.

\- That woman did not give birth to me.

\- Is this the reason why she… Hunts you?

\- No, neither is it for King Ahab, as much as it still baffles me. They have managed to find other reasons to loathe me, perfectly valid in their eyes. But it would be too long a story for now.

He nods in understanding and in agreement. He still has a lot to process. He remembers Ilda had mentionned a foreign king who had come to Merowig's help in her search for the young woman, Ahab must be the name.

\- The flowers?"

She chuckles.

"It helps with the pain. The blood loss. Low blood pressure, something like that. Happens when I… When I die.

\- Does that make you… Immortal?

She nods, and he can smell her embarrassment, mixed with sadness.

"I guess something might kill me, in the end, but nobody has managed to find what yet. Though it was not for lack of trying." She concludes bitterly. But she lifts her face to him, and he sees her blush.

"And… I needed kindness. To heal. I mean— Actual kindness. I bathed in yours when you held me."

He snorts. He is pretty sure nobody would dare to call him kind. Well, maybe Jaskier. If he wanted to tease him. But she lifts her hand to his cheek, and looks at him dead serious.

"I mean it. I'm a being of pure light. I can see souls. I could see yours. Even if by just touching you." He blinks, understanding. That was why she had asked to do so before agreeing to climb on Roach. And he remembers her touch at that moment. The same that she has now. With her hand against his face. A hand he covers with his own, softly drawing his thumb against her fingers.

"Now I know." He whispers. And she nods. And he understands what she doesn't say. It wouldn't be deception anymore. So they're free…

Her eyes flutter shut as their lips meet. This time, they know nothing is going to stop them.

It should be slow and soft, she is still recovering, or she should be. But there is an urgency, here, an impatience born from months of withholding, being so close and so far at the same time. It should be gentle, but her clothes are already in such a state of burnt and torn that he grabs her shirt and _rips_ it, and she answers with a _mewl_. He'll be damned if it's not the sexiest thing he's ever heard. She presses against him, her small breast squishing against his chest as her tongue drives him mad. She tugs at his shirt and he releases her lips only long enough to pull it over his head. When she's back in his arms it is skin against skin and he thinks he will get drunk on this feeling only. Her fingers lace behind his neck and her lips are back on him in a kiss he gives back quite eagerly.

She is no innocent maiden giving away her maidenhead with tears in her eyes. Life has made it such, and she has dealt with it a long time ago. But there is something with this man that makes her yearn for more. She wants him. She wants him with a longing that could frighten her. Because she wants his kindness, his softness, but she also wants his strength, his violence. She wants everything he can give, and she wants him to take her so. Her clothes are ruined anyway. It takes only a short moment for her to divest of the remnants of her pants, and he doesn't even bother, opening only his so as to free himself. He can feel a small hand closing around him, stroking, and he curses against her lips as pleasure makes him dizzy. His hand travel all the way down to her ass, which he cups, and he lifts her up onto him.

She gives a soft moan as she feels his cock against her entrance.

"Geralt…" she murmurs. "I want you."

And it seems that the world vanishes when he lowers her onto him. She arches her back with a groan of lustful surprise. This feels so good. This feels so right! This feels like happiness and decadence altogether and she hasn't felt like this since…

She stops this dangerous train of thought and focuses on the moment. There is only him. Him. Nothing else. Nothing else exists but the man between her legs, buried deep inside her, giving her such a pleasure she's sure he'll bruise her soul. She lets go of everything as he thrusts into her, her name on his lips. He lowers her to the ground, gently amongst the passion. He holds her thighs and she forgets everything that isn't him as he shows her just how much he wanted her.

They are alone in the forest, nobody can hear her wail his name when she reaches the height of her pleasure, nobody can hear her begging -for what, she doesn't know- when he keeps her there for long enough to threaten her sanity, nobody can hear the desperation of his grunt when he spills his seed inside her. Nobody can see him collapse on top of her, hear their shortness of breath. Nobody can even hear him say that he has got her, that he will never let her go, that she is safe in his arms. Because he doesn't pronounce the words. But there are here, in his heart. And it is scaring the shit out of him.


End file.
